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HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 




HETTY’S 


STRANGE HISTORY. 


BY 

HELEN JACKSON (H.H.), 

»i 

AUTHOR OF “RAMONA,” “a CENTURY OF DISHONOR,” “VERSES,” “ SONNETS 
AND LYRICS,” ‘‘GLIMPSES OF THREE COASTS,” “BITS OF TRAVEL,” 
“bits OF TRAVEL AT HOME,” “ ZEPH,” “MERCY PHILBRICK’S 
CHOICE,” “BETWEEN WHILES,” “ BITS OF TALK 
ABOUT HOME MATTERS,” “ BITS OF TALK FOR 
YOUNG FOLKS,” “NELLYAS SILVER 
MINE,” “ CAT STORIES*” 


■) 

t 

> 4 

> > 

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) 


BOSTON: 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 


1904 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Rectave-j 

JIJL 6 1905 

n Copyrigrit tmry 

t Cj o£~ 
^UiSS AAc. iyw 

copy b. 

«—— 


Copyright, 1877, 

By Roberts Brothers. 



UNIVERSITY PRESS • JOHN WILSON 
AND SON • CAMBRIDGE, U.S. A. 









What lover best his love doth prove and show t 
The one whose words are swiftest, love to state f 
The one who measures out his love by weight 
In costly gifts which all men see and know f 
Nay l words are cheap and easy : they may go 
For what men think them worth : or soon or late, 
They are but air. A ndgifts f Still cheaper rate 
Are they at which men barter to andfro 
Where love is not / 

One thing remains. Oh, Love f 
Thou hast so seldom seen it on the earth. 

No name for it has ever sprung to birthj 
To give one's own life tip one's love to prove, 

Not in the martyr’s death, but in the dearth 
Of daily life's most wearing daily groove. 

//. 

A nd unto him who this great thing hath done, 

What does Great Love return ? No speedy joy / 
That swift delight which beareth large alloy 
Is guerdon Love bestowed on him who won 
A lesser trust: the happiness begun 
In happiness, of happiness tnay cloy. 

And, its own subtle foe, itself destroy. 

But steadfast, tireless, quenchless as the sun 
Doth grow that gladness which hath root in pain. 
Earth's common griefs assail this soul in vain. 
Great Love himself, too poor to pay such debt, 

Doth borrow God's great peace which passeth yet 
All understanding. Full tenfold again 
Is found the life, laid down without regret / 

































































































' 













HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


I. 


TT7HEN Squire Gunn and his wife died, 
* ™ within three months of each other, and 
Hetty their only child was left alone in the big 
farm-house, everybody said, “ Well, now Hetty 
Gunn ’ll have to make up her mind to marry 
somebody.” And it certainly looked as if she 
must. What could be lonelier than the position 
of a woman thirty-five years of age sole possessor 
of a great stone house, half a dozen barns and 
out-buildings, herds of cattle, and a farm of five 
hundred acres ? The place was known as 
“ Gunn’s,” far and wide. It had been a rich and 
prosperous farm ever since the days of the first 
Squire Gunn, Hetty’s grandfather. He was one 
of Massachusetts’ earliest militia-men, and had a 
leg shot off at Lexington. To the old man’s 
dying day he used to grow red in the face when¬ 
ever he told the story, and bring his fist down 


8 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


hard on the table, with “ Damn the leg, sir ! 
’Twasn’t the leg I cared for: ’twas the not hav¬ 
ing another chance at those damned British ras¬ 
cals ; ” and the wooden leg itself would twitch 
and rap on the floor in his impatient indignation. 
One of Hetty’s earliest recollections was of 
being led about the farm by this warm-hearted, 
irascible, old grandfather, whose wooden leg was 
a perpetual and unfathomable mystery to her. 
Where the flesh leg left off and the wooden leg 
began, and if, when the wooden leg stumped so 
loud and hard on the floor, it did not hurt the 
flesh leg at the other end, puzzled little Hetty’s 
head for many a long hour. Her grandfather’s 
frequent and comic references to the honest old 
wooden pin did not diminish her perplexities. 
He was something of a wag, the old Squire; and 
nothing came handier to him, in the way of a 
joke, than a joke at his own expense. When 
he was eighty years old, he had a stroke of paral¬ 
ysis : he lived six years after that; but he could 
not walk about the farm any longer. He used 
to sit in a big cane-bottomed chair close to the 
fireplace, in winter, and under a big lilac- 
bush, at the north-east corner of the house, in 
summer. He kept a stout iron-tipped cane by 
his side: in the winter, he used it to poke the 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


9 


fire with; in the summer, to rap the hens and 
chickens which he used to lure round his chair 
by handfuls of corn and oats. Sometimes he 
would tap the end of the wooden leg with this 
cane, and say, laughingly, “ Ha! ha ! think of a 
leg like that’s being paralyzed, if you please. 
Isn’t that a joke ? It’s just as paralyzed as the 
other : damn those British rascals.” And only a 
few hours before he died, he said to his son: 
“ Look here, Abe, you put on my grave-stone, 
— ‘ Here lies Abraham Gunn, all but one leg.’ 
What do you suppose one-legged men ’re going 
to do in the resurrection, hey, Abe ? I ’ll 
ask the parson if he comes in this afternoon,” 
he added. But, when the parson came, the 
brave, merry eyes were shut for ever, and the 
old hero had gone to a new world, on which he 
no doubt entered as resolutely and cheerily as 
he had gone through nearly a century of this. 
These glimpses of the old Squire’s characteris¬ 
tics are not out of place here, although he him¬ 
self has no place in our story, having been dead 
and buried for more than twenty years before 
the story begins. But he lived again in his 
granddaughter Hetty. How much of her off¬ 
hand, comic, sturdy, resolute, disinterested nature 
came to her by direct inheritance from his blood, 



10 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


and how much was absorbed as she might have 
absorbed it from any one she loved and associ¬ 
ated with, it is impossible to tell. But by one 
process or the other, or by both, Hetty Gunn 
was, as all the country people round about said, 
“Just the old Squire over again,” and if they 
sometimes added, as it must be owned they 
did, “ It’s a thousand pities she wasn’t a boy,” 
there was, in this reflection on the Creator, no 
reflection on Hetty’s womanliness : it was rather 
on the accepted theory and sphere of woman’s 
activities and manifestations. Nobody in this 
world could have a tenderer heart than Hetty: 
this also she had inherited or learned from her 
grandfather. Many a day the two had spent 
together in nursing a sick or maimed chicken, 
or a half-frozen lamb, even a woodchuck that had 
got its leg broken in a trap was not an outcast 
to them ; and as for beggars and tramps, not 
one passed “Gunn’s,” from June till October, 
that was not hailed by the old squire from under 
his lilac-bush, and fed by Hetty. Plenty of 
sarcastic and wholesome advice the old gentle¬ 
man gave them, while they sat on the ground 
eating; and every word of it sank into Hetty’s 
wide-open ears and sensible soul, developing in 
her a very rare sort of thing which, for want of 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


II 


a better name, we might call common-sense 
sympathy. To this sturdy common-sense bar¬ 
rier against the sentimental side of sympathy 
with other people’s sufferings, Hetty added an 
equally sturdy, and she would have said common- 
sense, fortitude in bearing her own. This in¬ 
valuable trait she owed largely to her grand¬ 
father’s wooden leg. Before she could speak 
plain, she had already made his cheerful way 
of bearing the discomfort and annoyance of that 
queer leg her own standard of patience and 
equanimity. Nothing that ever happened to her, 
no pain, no deprivation, seemed half so dreadful 
as a wooden leg. She used to stretch out her 
own fat, chubby, little legs, and look from them 
to her grandfather’s. Then she would timidly 
touch the wooden tip which rested on the floor, 
and look up in her grandfather’s face, and say, 
“ Poor Grandpa! ” 

“ Pshaw! pshaw! child,” he would reply, “that’s 
nothing. It does almost as well to walk on, and 
that’s all legs are for. I’d have had forty legs 
shot off rather than not have helped drive out 
those damned British rascals.” 

Not even for sake of Hetty’s young ears 
could the old Squire mention the British rascals 
without his favorite expletive. Here, also, came 



12 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


in another lesson which sank deep into Hetty’s 
heart. It was for his country that her grand¬ 
father had lost that leg, and would have gladly 
lost forty, if he had had so many to lose, not for 
himself; for something which he loved better 
than himself: this was distinct in Hetty Gunn’s 
comprehension before she was twelve years old, 
and it was a most important force in the growth 
of her nature. No one can estimate the results 
on a character of these slow absorptions, these 
unconscious biases, from daily contact. All pre¬ 
cepts, all religions, are insignificant agencies by 
their side. They are like sun and soil to a 
plant: they make a moral climate in which 
certain things are sure to grow, and certain 
other things are sure to die; as sure as it is 
that orchids and pineapples thrive in the tropics, 
and would die in New England. 

When old Squire Gunn was buried, all the 
villages within twenty miles turned out to his 
funeral. He was the last revolutionary hero of 
the county. An oration was delivered in the 
meeting-house ; and the brass band of Welbury 
played “My country, ’tis of thee,” all the way 
from the meeting-house to the graveyard gate. 
After the grave was filled up, guns were fired 
above it, and the Welbury village choir sang an 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


13 


anthem. The crowd, the music, the firing of 
guns, produced an ineffaceable impression upon 
Hetty’s mind. While her grandfather’s body 
lay in the house, she had wept inconsolably. 
But as soon as the funeral services began, her 
tears stopped; her eyes grew large and bright 
with excitement; she held her head erect; a 
noble exaltation and pride shone on her feat¬ 
ures ; she gazed upon the faces of the people 
with a composure and dignity which were un¬ 
childlike. No emperor’s daughter in Rome 
could have borne herself, at the burial of her 
most illustrious ancestor, more grandly and yet 
more modestly than did little Hetty Gunn, aged 
twelve, at the burial of this unfamed Massachu* 
setts revolutionary soldier: and well she might; 
for a greater than royal inheritance had come to 
her from him. The echoes of the farewell shots 
which were fired over the old man’s grave were 
never to die out of Hetty’s ears. Child, girl, 
woman, she was to hear them always: signal 
guns of her life, they meant courage, cheerful¬ 
ness, self-sacrifice. 

Of Hetty’s father, the “young Squire,” as to 
the day of his death he was called by the older 
people in Welbury, and of Hetty’s mother, his 
wife, it is not needful to say much here. The 



*4 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


young Squire was a lazy, affectionate man to 
whom the good things of life had come without 
his taking any trouble for them: even his wife 
had been more than half wooed for him by his 
doting father; and there were those who said 
that pretty Mrs. Gunn had been quite as much 
in love with the old Squire, old as he was, as 
with the young one; but that was only an idle 
village sneer. The young Squire and his wife 
loved each other devotedly, and their only child, 
Hetty, with an unreasoning and unreasonable 
affection which would have been the ruin of her, 
if she had been any thing else but what she was, 
“the old Squire over again.” As it was, the 
only effect of this overweening affection, on their 
part, was to produce a slow reversal of some of 
the ordinary relations between parents and chil¬ 
dren. As Hetty grew into womanhood, she 
grew more and more to have a sense of respon¬ 
sibility for her father’s and mother’s happiness. 
She was the most filially docile of creatures, and 
obeyed like a baby, grown woman as she was. It 
was strange to hear and to see. 

“ Hetty, bring me my overcoat,” her fathei 
would say to her in her thirty-fifth year, exactly 
as he would have said it in her twelfth ;*and she 
would spring with the same alacrity and the 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


15 


same look of pleasure at being of use. But 
there was a filial service which she rendered 
to her parents much deeper than these sur¬ 
face obediences and attentions. They were 
but dimly conscious of it; and yet, had it been 
taken away from them, they had found their lives 
blighted indeed. She was the link between 
them and the outside world. She brought mer¬ 
riment, cheer, hearty friendliness into the house. 
She was the good comrade of every young 
woman and every young man in Welbury ; and 
she compelled them all to bring a certain half- 
filial affection and attention to her father and 
mother. The best tribute to what she had ac¬ 
complished in this direction was in the fact, 
that you always heard the young people mention 
Squire Gunn and his wife as “Hetty Gunn’s 
father ” or “ Hetty Gunn’s mother; ” and the 
two old people were seen at many a gathering 
where there was not a single old face but theirs. 

“Hetty won’t go without her father and 
mother,” or “ Hetty ’ll be so pleased if we ask 
her father and mother,” was frequently heard. 
From this free and unembarrassed association of 
the old and the young, grew many excellent 
things. In this wholesome atmosphere honesty 
and good behavior thrived ; but there was little 




16 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


chance for the development of those secret - sen¬ 
timental preferences and susceptibilities out of 
which spring love-making and thoughts of mar¬ 
riage. 

There probably was not a marriageable young 
man in Welbury who had not at one time or an¬ 
other thought to himself, what a good thing it 
would be to marry Hetty Gunn. Hetty was 
pretty, sensible, affectionate, and rich. Such 
girls as that were not to be found every day. 
A man might look far and long before he could 
find such a wife as Hetty would make. But 
nothing seemed to be farther from Hetty’s 
thoughts than making a wife of herself for any¬ 
body. And the world may say what it pleases 
about its being the exclusive province of men to 
woo : very few men do woo a woman who does 
not show herself ready to be wooed. It is a rare 
beauty or a rare spell of some sort which can 
draw a man past the barrier of a woman’s hon¬ 
est, unaffected, and persistent unconsciousness of 
any thoughts of love or matrimony. So between 
Hetty’s unconsciousness and her perpetual com¬ 
radeship with her father and mother, the years 
went on, and on, and no man asked Hetty to 
marry him. The odd thing about it was that 
every man felt sure that he was the only man 




HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


17 


who had not asked her; and a general impres¬ 
sion had grown up in the town that Hetty Gunn 
had refused nearly everybody. She was so evi¬ 
dently a favorite ; “ Gunn’s ” was so much the 
headquarters for all the young people ; it was so 
open to everybody’s observation how much all 
men admired and liked Hetty, — she was never 
seen anywhere without one or two or three at 
her service : it was the most natural thing in the 
world for people to think as they did. Yet not a 
human being ever accused Hetty of flirting ; her 
manner was always as open, friendly, and cor¬ 
dial as an honest boy’s, and with no more trace of 
self-seeking or self-consciousness about it. She 
was as full of fun and mischief, too, as any boy 
could be. She had slid down hill with the wild¬ 
est of them, till even her father said sternly, — 

“Hetty, — you’re too big. It’s a shameful 
sight to see a girl of your size, out on a sled with 
boys.” And Hetty hung her head, and said 
pathetically, — 

“ I wish I hadn’t grown. I’d rather be a 
Iwarf, than not slide down hill.” 

But after the sliding was forbidden, there re¬ 
mained the chestnuttings in the autumn, and the 
trout fishings in the summer, and the Mayflower 
parties in the spring, and colts and horses and 



18 HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


dogs. Until Hetty was twenty-two years old, 
you might have been quite sure that, when¬ 
ever you found her in any out-door party, the 
masculine element was largely predominant in 
that party. After this time, however, life gradu¬ 
ally sobered for Hetty: one by one her friends 
married ; the maidens became matrons, the young 
men became heads of houses. In wedding after 
wedding, Hetty Gunn was the prettiest of the 
bridesmaids, and people whispered as they 
watched her merry, kindly face, — 

“Ain’t it the queerest thing in life, Hetty 
Gunn won’t marry. There isn’t a fellow in 
town she mightn’t have.” 

If anybody had said this to Hetty herself, she 
would probably have laughed, and said with en¬ 
tire frankness,— 

“ You ’re quite mistaken. They don’t want 
me,” which would only have strengthened her 
hearers’ previous impressions that they did. 

In process of time, after the weddings came 
the christenings, and at these also Hetty Gunn 
was still the favorite friend, the desired guest. 
Presently, there came to be so many little Hetty 
Gunns in the village, that no young mother had 
courage to use the name more, however much she 
loved Hetty. Hetty used to say laughingly that it 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


19 


was well she was an only child, for she had now 
more nieces and nephews than she knew what 
to do with. Very dearly she loved them all; and 
the little things all loved her, the instant she put 
her arms round them : and more than one young 
husband, without meaning to be in the least dis¬ 
loyal to his wife, thought to himself, when he 
saw his baby’s face nestling down to Hetty 
Gunn’s brown curls, — 

“ I wonder if she’d have had me, if I’d asked 
her. But I don’t believe Hetty ’ll ever marry, 
— a girl that’s had the offers she has.” 

And so it had come to pass that, at the time 
our story begins, Hetty was thirty-five years old, 
and singularly alone in the world. The death of 
her mother, which had occurred first, was a 
great shock to her, for it had been a sudden and 
a painful death. But the loss of her mother was 
to Hetty a trivial one, in comparison with the loss 
of her father. On the day of her grandfather’s 
death, she had seemed, child as she was, to have 
received her father into her hands, as a sacred 
legacy of trust; and he, on his part, seemed fully 
to reciprocate and accept without comprehend¬ 
ing the new relation. He unconsciously leaned 
upon Hetty more and more from that hour until 
the hour when he died, bolstered up in bed with 



20 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


his head on her shoulder, and gasping out, between 
difficult breaths, his words of farewell, — strange 
farewell to be spoken to a middle-aged woman, 
whose hair was already streaked with gray, — 

“ Poor little girl! I ’ve got to leave you. 
You’ve been a good little girl, Hetty, a good 
little girl.” 

Neighbors and friends crowded around Hetty, in 
the first moments of her grief. But they all, even 
those nearest and most intimate, found them¬ 
selves bewildered and baffled, nay almost repelled, 
by Hetty’s manner. Her noble face was so grief- 
stricken that she looked years older in a single 
day. But her voice and her smile were unaltered ; 
and she would not listen to any words of sym¬ 
pathy. She wished to hear no allusions to her 
trouble, except such as were needfully made in 
the arranging of practical points. Her eyes 
filled with tears frequently, but no one saw a 
tear fall. At the funeral, her face wore much 
the same look it had worn, twenty-three years 
before, at her grandfather’s funeral. There were 
some present who remembered that day well, 
and remembered the look, and they said mus¬ 
ingly, — 

“ There’s something very queer about Hetty 
Gunn, after all. Don’t you remember how 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


21 


she acted, when she was a little thing, the day 
old Squire Gunn was buried ? Anybody’d 
have thought then a funeral was Fourth of 
July, and she looks much the same way now.’' 

Then they fell to discussing the probabilities 
of her future course. It was not easy to predict. 

“ The Squire ’s left every thing to her, just as 
if she was a man. She can sell the property 
right off, if she wants to, and go and live where 
she likes,” they said. 

"Well, you may set your minds to rest on 
that,” said old Deacon Little, who had been the 
young squire’s most intimate friend, and who 
knew Hetty as well as if she were his own child, 
and loved her better; for his own children, poor 
man, had nearly brought his gray hairs down to 
the grave with distress and shame. 

“ Hetty Gunn ’ll never sell that farm, not a 
stick nor a stone on’t, any more than the old 
Squire himself would. You ’ll see, she ’ll keep it 
a goin’, jest the same’s ever. It’s a thousand 
pities, she warn’t born a boy.” 



22 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


II. 


HE funeral took place late in the afternoon 



A of a warm April day. The roads were 
very muddy, and the long procession wound 
back to the village about as slowly as it had 
gone out. One by one, wagon after wagon fell 
out of the line, and turned off to the right or 
left, until there were left only the Gunns’ big 
carryall, in which sat Hetty, with her two house- 
servants, — an old black man and his wife, who 
had been in her father’s house so long, that their 
original patronymic had fallen entirely out of 
use, and they were known as “ Caesar Gunn ” 
and “Nan Gunn” the town over. Behind this 
followed their farm wagon, in which sat the 
farmer and his wife with their babies, and the 
two farm laborers, — all Irish, and all crying au¬ 
dibly after the fashion of their race. As they 
turned into the long avenue of pines which led 
up to the house, their grief broke out louder and 
louder; and, when the wagon stopped in front of 
the western piazza, their sobs and cries became 




NETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


25 


howls and shrieks. Hetty, who was just enter¬ 
ing the front-door, turned suddenly, and walking 
swiftly toward them, said, in a clear firm tone, — 

“ Look here! Mike, Dan, Norah, I ’m ashamed 
of you. Don’t you see you’re frightening the 
poor little children ? Be quiet. The one who loved 
my father most will be the first one to go about 
his work as if nothing had happened. Mike, 
saddle the pony for me at six. I am going to 
ride over to Deacon Little’s.” 

The men were too astonished to reply, but 
gazed at her dumbly. Mike muttered sullenly, 
as he drove on, — 

“ An’ it’s a quare way to be showin’ our love, 
I’m thinkin’.” 

“ An’ it’s Miss Hetty’s own way thin, by 
Jasus!” answered Dan; “an’ I’d jist loike to 
see the man ’ud say, she didn’t fairly worship 
the very futsteps of ’im.” 

When. Deacon Little heard Hetty Gunn’s 
voice at his door that night, the old man sprang 
to his feet as he had not sprung for twenty years. 

“ Bless my soul! ” he exclaimed, “ what can 
have brought Hetty Gunn here to-night ? ” and 
he met her in the hall with outstretched hands. 

“ Hetty, my dear, what is it ? ” he exclaimed, 
in a tone of anxiety. 



24 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ Oh !” said Hetty, earnestly. “ I have fright 
ened you, haven’t I ? was it wrong for me to 
come to-night? There are so many things 1 
want to talk over with you. I want to get 
settled; and all the work on the farm is belated . 
and I can’t have the place run behindhand ; that 
would worry father so.” 

The tears stood in her eyes, but she spoke in 
as matter-of-course a tone as if she had simply 
come as her father’s messenger to ask advice. 
The old deacon pushed his spectacles high upon 
his forehead, and, throwing his head back, looked 
at Hetty a moment, scrutinizingly, in silence. 
Then, he said, half to himself, half to her, — 
“You ’re your grandfather all over, Hetty. 
Now let me know what I can help you about. 
You can always come to me, as long as I’m alive, 
Hetty. You know that. ” 

“Yes,” said Hetty, walking back and forth 
in the little’room, rapidly. “You are the only 
person I shall ever ask any thing of in that 
way.” 

“ Sit down, Hetty, sit down,” said the old man. 
" You must be all worn out.” 

“ Oh, no ! I’m not tired : I was never tired in 
my life,” replied Hetty. “ Let me walk: it does 
me good to walk ; I walked nearly all last night; 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


25 


it seems to be something to do. You see, Mr. 
Little,” she said, — pausing suddenly, and folding 
her arms on her breast, as she looked at him, — 
“ I don’t quite see my way clear yet; and one 
must see one’s way clear before one can be quiet. 
It’s horrible to grope.” 

“ Yes, yes, child,” said the deacon, hesitatingly. 
He did not understand metaphor. “You are 
not thinking of going away, are you, Hetty ? ” 

“ Going away ! ” exclaimed Hetty. “ Why, 
what do you mean ? How could I go away ? Be¬ 
sides, I wouldn’t go for any thing in the world. 
What should I go away for ? ” 

“ Well, I ’m real glad to hear you say so, 
Hetty,” replied the deacon warmly ; “ some folks 
have said, you’d most likely sell the farm, and 
go away.” 

“ What fools ! I’d as soon sell myself,” said 
Hetty, curtly. “ But I can’t live there all alone. 
And one thing I wanted to ask you about to¬ 
night was, whether you thought it would do for 
your James and his wife to come and live there 
with me: I would give him a good salary as a 
sort of overseer. Of course, I should expect to 
control every thing; and that’s not much more 
than I have done for three or four years: but 
the men will do better with a man to give them 



2 6 


HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


their orders, than they will with me alone. I 
could do this better with Jim than I could with 
a stranger. I’ve always liked Jim.” 

Deacon Little did not reply. His eyes were 
fixed on the ground, and his face flushed with 
agitation. At last he said huskily, — 

“Would you really take Jim and Sally home 
to your house, to live with you, Hetty ? ” 

“ Why, certainly,” replied Hetty, in an impa¬ 
tient tone, “that’s what I said: didn’t I make it 
plain ? ” and she walked faster and faster back 
and forth. 

“ Hetty, you ’re an angel,” exclaimed the old 
man. solemnly. “ If there’s any thing that could 
make him hold up his head again, it would be 
just that thing. “But — ” he hesitated, “you 
know Sally?” 

“ Yes, yes, I know her. I know all about her. 
She’s a poor, weak thing,” said Hetty, with no 
shade of tenderness in her voice ; “but Jim 'was 
the most to blame, and it’s abominable the way 
people have treated her. I always wished I 
could do something for them both, and now I’ve 
got the chance: that is if you think they’d like 
to come.” 

The deacon hesitated again, began to speak, 
broke off, hesitated, tried again, and at last 
stammered : — 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


27 


“ Don’t think I don’t feel your kindness, 
Hetty; but, low’s Jim’s fallen, I don’t quite 
feel like having them go into anybody’s kitchen, 
especially with black help.” 

“ Kitchen ! ” interrupted Hetty. “ What do 
you take me for, Deacon Little ? If Jim comes 
to live with me as my overseer, he is just the 
same as my partner in the place, so far as his 
position goes. How do you suppose I thought 
that the men would respect him, and take orders 
from him, if I meant to put him in the kitchen 
with Caesar and Nan ? No indeed, they shall 
live with me as if they were my brother and 
sister. There are plenty of rooms in the house 
for them to have their own sitting-room, and be 
by themselves as much as they like. Kitchen 
indeed ! I think you ’ve forgotten that Jim and 
I were schoolmates from the time we were six 
till we were twenty. I always liked Jim, and 
he hasn’t had half a chance yet: that miserable 
affair pulled him down when he was so young.” 

“That’s so, Hetty; that’s so,” said the 
deacon, with tears rolling down his wrinkled 
cheeks. “Jim wasn’t a bad boy. He never 
meant to harm anybody, and he hasn’t 
had any chance at all since that happened. It 
seems as if it took all the spirit right out 



28 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


of him; and Sally, she hasn’t got any spirit 
either: she ’s been nothin’ but a millstone 
round his neck. It’s a mercy the baby died: 
that’s one thing.” 

“ I don’t think so at all, Mr. Little,” said 
Hetty, vehemently. “I think if the baby had 
lived, it would have strengthened them both. 
It would have made Sally much happier, at any 
rate. She is a motherly little thing.” 

“ Yes,” said the old man, reluctantly. “ Sally’s 
affectionate ; I won’t deny that: but ” — and an 
expression of exceeding bitterness passed over 
his face—“I wish to the Lord I needn’t ever 
lay my eyes on her face again! I can’t feel 
right towards her, and I don’t suppose I ever 
shall.” 

“ I wouldn’t wonder if the time came when 
she was a real comfort to you, Mr. Little,” said 
Hetty, cheerily. “You get them to come and 
live with me and see what that’ll do. I can 
afford to give Jim more than he can make at 
surveying. I have a notion he’s a better farmer 
than he is engineer, isn’t he ? ” 

“Yes, there’s nothing Jim don’t know about 
a farm. I always did hope he’d settle down here 
at home with us. But we couldn’t have Sally 
in the house: it would have killed Mrs. Little, 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 29 


It gives her a day’s nervous headache now, 
long ago’s ’tis, whenever she sees her on the 
street.” 

“ Well, well,” said Hetty, impatiently, u she 
won’t give anybody nervous headaches in my 
house, poor little soul, that’s certain ; and the 
sooner they can come the better I shall like it. 
So you will arrange it all for me at once, won’t 
you ? ” 

Then Hetty went on to speak of some matters 
in regard to the farm about which she was in 
doubt, — as to certain fields, and crops, and what 
should be done with the young stock from last 
year. Presently the old clock in the hall struck 
nine, and the village bells began to ring. 

Hetty sprang to her feet. 

“ Dear me ! ” she exclaimed, “ I had no idea it 
was so late. I only meant to stay an hour. Nan 
will be frightened about me.” And she was out 
of the house and on her pony’s back almost 
before Deacon Little could say,— 

“ But, Hetty, ain’t you afraid to go home by 
yourself. I can go with you’s well’s not.” 

“ Bless me, no ! ” said Hetty. “ I always ride 
alone. Polly knows the road as well as I do ; ” 
and she cantered off, saying cheerily, “ Good¬ 
night, deacon, I can’t tell you how much I ’in 



30 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


obliged to you. Please see Jim’s early’s you 
can to-morrow: I want to get settled and begin 
work.’’ 

When Hetty reached home, the house was 
silent and dark : only one feeble light glimmered 
in the hall. As she threw open the door, old 
Caesar and Nan rushed forward together from 
the kitchen, exclaiming, half sobbing, — 

“Oh, Miss Hetty! Miss Hetty! we made sure 
you was killed.” 

“ Nonsense, Nan! ” said Hetty, goodnatur- 
edly : “ what put such an idea into your head ? 
Haven’t I ridden Polly many a darker night 
than this ? ” 

“Yes’m,” sobbed Nan; “but to-night’s differ¬ 
ent. All our luck’s gone : ‘When the master’s 
dead, the house is shook,’ they say where I was 
raised. Oh, Miss Hetty! it’s lonesome’s death 
in the kitchen.” 

Hetty threw open the door into the sitting- 
room. “ Put on a stick of wood, Nan, and make 
the fire blaze up,” she said. 

While Nan was doing this, Hetty lighted the 
lamps, drew down the curtains, and gave the 
room its ordinary evening look. Then she 
said, — 

“ Now, Nan, sit down: I want to talk with 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


31 


you/’ and Hetty herself sat down in her father’s 
chair on the right hand of the fireplace. 

“ Oh, Miss Hetty! ” cried Nan, “ don’t you go 
set in that chair: you ’ll die before the year’s out 
if you do. Oh please, Miss Hetty! get right up; ” 
and the poor old woman took forcible hold of her 
young mistress’s arms, and tried to lift her from 
the chair. 

“To please you, I will sit in another chair 
now, Nan, because I want you to be quiet and 
listen to me. But that will be my chair to sit in 
always, just as it used to be my father’s ; and 
I shall not die before the year’s out, Nan, nor I 
hope for a great many years to come yet,” said 
Hetty. 

“ Oh, no! please the Lord, Miss Hetty,” 
sobbed Nan: “who’d take care of Caesar an’ me 
ef you was to die.” 

“ But I expect you and Caesar to take care of 
me, Nan,” replied Hetty, smiling, “and I want to 
have a good talk with you now, and make you 
understand about our life here. You want to 
please me, don’t you, Nan ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! Miss Hetty. You knows I do, and 
so does Caesar. We wouldn’t have no other 
missus, not in all these Norf States : we’d sooner 
go back down where we was raised.” 



32 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


Hetty smiled involuntarily at this violent 
comparison, knowing well that both Caesar and 
Nan would have died sooner than go back to 
the land where they were “ raised.” But she 
went on,— 

“ Very well. You never need have any other 
mistress as long as I live: and when I die you 
and Caesar will have money enough to make you 
comfortable, and a nice little house. Now the 
first thing I want you to understand is that we 
are going to live on here in this house, exactly 
as we did when my father was here. I shall 
carry on the farm exactly as he would if he 
were alive; that is, as nearly as I can. Now 
you will make it very hard for me, if you cry and 
are lonesome, and say such things as you said 
to-night. If you want to please me, you will go 
right on with your work cheerfully, and behave 
just as if your master were sitting there in his 
chair all the time. That is what will please 
him best, too, if he is looking on, as I don’t doubt 
he very often will be.” 

“ But is you goin’ to be here all alone, Miss 
Hetty ? yer don’t know what yer a layin’ out for, 
yer don’t,” interrupted Nan. 

“No,” replied Hetty: “Mr. James Little and 
his wife are coming here to stay. He will be 
overseer of the farm.” 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY . 


33 


“ What! Her that was Sally Newhall ? ” ex¬ 
claimed Nan, in a sharp tone. 

“ Yes, that was Mrs. Little’s name before she 
was married,” replied Hetty, looking Nan full 
in the face with a steady expression, intended 
to restrain any farther remarks on the subject 
of Mrs. Little. But Nan was not to be re- 
strained. 

“Before she was married! Yes’m! an’ a 
good deal too late ’twas she was married too. 
’Deed, Miss Hetty, yer ain’t never going to 
take her in to live with you, be yer ? ” she 
muttered. 

“Yes, I am, Nan,” Hetty said firmly ; “and 
you must never let such a word as that pass 
your lips again. You will displease me very 
much if you do not treat Mrs. Little respect¬ 
fully.” 

“ But, Miss Hetty,” persisted Nan. “ Yer 
don’t know” — 

“Yes, I do, Nan : I know it all. But I pity 
them both very much. We have all done wrong 
in one way or another; and it is the Lord’s 
business to punish people, not ours. You’ve 
often told me, Nan, about that pretty little girl 
of yours and Caesar’s that died when I was a 
baby. Supposing she had lived to be a woman, 
3 



34 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


and some one had led her to do just as wrong as 
poor Sally Little did, wouldn’t you have thought 
it very hard if the whole world had turned against 
her, and never given her a fair chance again to 
show that she was sorry and meant to live a 
good life ? ” 

Nan was softened. 

“ ’Deed would I, Miss Hetty. But that don’t 
make me feel like seein’ that gal a settin’ down 
to table with you, Miss Hetty, now I tell yer! 
Caesar nor me couldn’t stand that nohow ! ” 

“Yes you can, Nan ; and you will, when you 
know that it would make me very unhappy to 
have you be unkind to her,” answered Hetty, 
firmly. “ She and her husband both, have done 
all in their power to atone for their wrong ; and 
nobody has ever said a word against Mrs. Little 
since her marriage; and one thing I want dis¬ 
tinctly understood, Nan, by every one on this 
place, — any disrespectful word or look towards 
Mr. or Mrs. Little will be just the same as if it 
were towards me myself.” 

Nan was silenced, but her face wore an 
obstinate expression which gave Hetty some 
misgivings as to the success of her experiment. 
However, she knew that Nan could be trusted 
to repeat to the other servants all that she had 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


35 


said, and that it would lose nothing in the recital; 
and, as for the future, one of Hetty’s first prin¬ 
ciples of action was an old proverb which her 
grandfather had explained to her when she was 
a little girl, — 

“ Don’t cross bridges till you come to *hem 



36 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


III. 


HE gratitude with which James Little’s 



“*■ wife received Hetty’s proposition was so 
great that it softened even her father-in-law’s 


heart. 


“ I do believe, Hetty,” he said, when he gave 
her their answer, “ I do believe that poor girl 
has suffered more ’n we’ve given her credit for. 
When I explained to her that you was goin’ 
to take her right in to be like one o’ your own 
family, she turned as white as a sheet, and 
says she, — 

“‘You don’t mean it, father: she won’t ever 
dare to : ’ and when I said, says I, — 

“ ‘ Yes, she does : Hetty Gunn ain’t a girl not 
to know what she means to do. And that’s 
just what she says she’s goin’ to do with you 
and Jim,’ she broke right out crying, out loud, 
just like a little baby, and says she, — 

“ ‘ If the Lord don’t bless Hetty Gunn for bein’ 
so good to us ! she sha’n’t ever be sorry for it’s 
long’s she lives.’” 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


3 7 


“ Of course I sha’n’t,” said Hetty, bluntly. “ I 
never was sorry yet for any thing I did which 
was right, and I am as sure this is right as I am 
that I am alive. When will they come ? ” 

“ Sarah said she would come right over to-day, 
if you’d like to have her help you ; and Jim he 
could fix up things at home, and shut the house 
up. Jim said they’d better not let the house 
till you had tried how it worked havin’ ’em here. 
Jim don’t seem very sanguine about it. Poor 
fellow, he’s got the spirit all taken out of him.” 

“ Well, well, we ’ll put it back again, see if we 
don’t, before the year is out,” replied Hetty, with 
a beaming smile, which made her face beautiful. 

It happened fortunately that poor Sarah Little 
first came to her new home alone, rather than 
with her husband. The years of solitude and 
disgrace through which they had lived, had made 
him dogged and defiant of manner, but had made 
her humble and quiet. She still kept a good deal 
of the beauty of her youth ; and there were few 
persons who could be unmoved by the upward 
glance of her saddened blue eyes. In less than 
five minutes, she conquered old Nan, and secured 
her as an ally for ever. As she entered the house, 
Hetty met her, and saying cordially, — 

“ I’m glad to see you, Sally. It was so good of 



38 HEFTY'S STRANGE HISTORY 


you to come right over at once ; we have a great 
deal to do,” — she kissed her on her forehead. 

Sarah burst into tears. Nan stood by with a 
sullen face. Turning towards her involuntarily, 
perhaps because she hardly dared to speak to 
Hetty, Sarah said,— 

“ Oh, Nan, I ’m only crying because she is so 
kind to me. I can’t help itand the poor thing 
sank into a chair and sobbed. No wonder ! it was 
six years since she had returned to her native 
village, a shame-stricken woman, bearing in her 
arms the child whose birth had been her disgrace. 
That its father was now her husband did little 
or nothing to repair the loss which her weakness 
and wrong-doing had entailed on her. If there 
be a pitiless community in this world, it is a small 
New England village. Calvinism, in its sternest 
aspects, broods over it; narrowness and monot¬ 
ony make rigid the hearts which theology has 
chilled ; and a grim Pharisaism, born of a certain 
sort of intellectual keen-wittedness, completes the 
cruel inhumanity. It was six years since poor 
Sarah Little, baby in arms, had come into such 
an air as this, — six years, and until this mo¬ 
ment, when Hetty Gunn kissed her forehead 
and spoke to her with affection, no woman had 
ever said to her a kindly word. When the baby 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


39 


died, not a neighbor came to its funeral. The 
minister, the weeping father and mother, and 
the stern-looking grandfather, alone followed the 
little unwelcomed one to its grave. After that, 
Sarah rarely went out of her house except 
at night. The tradesmen with whom she had 
to deal came slowly to have a pitying respect 
for her. The minister went occasionally to see 
her, and in his clumsy way thought he perceived 
what he called “the right spirit” in her. Sarah 
dreaded his calls more than any thing else. 
What made her isolation much harder to bear 
was the fact that, only two years before, every 
young girl in the county had been her friend. 
There was no such milliner an all that region as 
Sarah Newhall. In autumn and in spring, her 
little shop at Lonway Four Corners was crowded 
with chattering and eager girls, choosing ribbons 
and hats, and all deferring to her taste. Now 
they all passed her by with only a cold and si¬ 
lent bow. Not one spoke. To Sarah’s affection¬ 
ate, mirth-loving temperament, this was misery 
greater than could be expressed. She said not 
a word about it, not even to her husband: she 
bore it as dumb animals bear pain, seeking only 
a shelter, a hiding-place; but she wished herself 
dead. Jim’s share of the punishment had been 



40 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


in some ways lighter than hers, in others harder. 
He had less loneliness ; but, on the other hand, by 
his constant intercourse with men, he was fre- 
qently reminded of the barrier which separated 
himself and his wife from all that went on in the 
village. He had the same mirthful, social tem¬ 
perament which she had : the thoughtless, child¬ 
ish, pleasure-loving quality, which they had in 
common, had been the root of their sin; and was 
now the instrument of their suffering. Stronger 
people could have borne up better; worse peo¬ 
ple might have found a certain evil solace in 
evil ways and with evil associates: but Jim and 
Sally were incapable of any such course; they 
were simply two utterly broken-spirited and 
hopeless children whose punishment had been 
greater than they could bear. In a dogged way, 
because they must live, Jim went on earning 
a little money as surveyor and draughtsman. 
He often talked of going away into some new far¬ 
away place where they could have, as he said, in 
the same words Hetty had used, “ a fair chance; ” 
but Sally would not go. “ It would not make a 
bit of difference,” she said : “ it would be sure 
to be found out, and strange folks would despise 
us even more than our own folks do; perhaps 
things will come round right after a while, if we 
stay here.” 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 41 


Jim did not insist, for he loved Sally tenderly; 
and he felt, to the core of his heart, that the 
least he could do for her now was to let her live 
where she chose to live: but he grew more sullen 
ar.d dogged, day by day ; and Sally grew sadder 
and quieter, and things were fast coming to a 
bad pass, when Hetty Gunn’s generous offer 
came to them, like a great rift of sunlight in a 
black sky. 

When Sally sank into the chair sobbing, Hetty 
made a quick movement towards her, and was 
about to speak; but, seeing that old Nan was 
hastening to do the same thing, she wisely waited, 
thinking to herself, — 

“ If Nan will only take her under her wing, all 
will go well.” 

Old Nan’s tenderness of heart was unlimited. 
If her worst enemy were in pain or sorrow, she 
would succor him: ready perhaps to take up the 
threads of her resentment again, as soon as his 
sufferings were alleviated ; but a very Samaritan 
of good offices as long as he needed them. Cae¬ 
sar, so well understood this trait in her, that in 
their matrimonial disputes, which, it must be con¬ 
fessed, were frequent and sharp, when all other 
weapons failed him, he fell back on the colic. 
He had only to interrupt the torrent of her 



42 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


reproaches, with a groan, and a twist of his fat 
abdomen, and “ oh, honey, I ’m so bad in my 
stomach!” and she was transformed, in an in¬ 
stant from a Xantippe into a Florence Night¬ 
ingale : the whole current of her wrath deviated 
from him to the last meal he had eaten, whatever 
it might be. 

“Now, it’s jist nothin’ but that pesky bacon 
you ate this mornin’, Caesar: you shan’t never 
touch a bit again’s long’s you live; do you 
hear?” and with hot water and flannels, she 
would proceed to comfort and coddle him as if 
no anger had ever stirred her heart. 

‘ When she saw poor Sarah Little sink crying 
into a chair, and heard the humble gratefulness 
of her words; and, moreover, felt herself, as 
it were, distinctly taken into confidence by 
the implied reference to the unhappy past, — old 
Nan melted. 

“There, there, honey: don’t ye take on so. 
We’re jest powerful glad to get you here, we 
be. I was a tellin’ Miss Hetty yesterday she 
couldn’t live here alone, noways: we couldn’t 
any of us stand it. Come along into the din- 
in’-room, an’ Caesar he ’ll give you a glass of his 
blackberry wine. Caesar won’t let anybody but 
hisself touch the blackberry wine, an’ hain’t this 
twenty year.” 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 43 


“ Here, Caesar ! you, Caesar! where be yer ? 
Come right in here, you loafin’ niggah.” This 
was Nan’s most affectionate nickname for her 
husband ; it was always accompanied with a 
glance of proud admiration, which was the key 
to the seemingly opprobrious epithet, and re¬ 
vealed that all it really meant was a complacent 
satisfaction in her breast that her husband was 
in a position to loaf if he liked to, — a gentleman 
of leisure and dignity, so to speak, subject to no 
orders but her own. 

Caesar could hardly believe his ears when he 
heard himself called upon to bring a glass of 
his blackberry wine to Mrs. Sarah Little. This 
was not at all in keeping with the line of con¬ 
duct which Nan had announced beforehand that 
she should pursue in regard to that lady. Be¬ 
wildered by his perplexed meditations on this 
change of policy, he moved even more slowly 
than was his wont, and was presently still more 
bewildered by finding the glass snatched sud¬ 
denly from his hand, with a sharp reprimand 
from Nan. 

“You’re asleep, ain’t you? p’raps you’d bet¬ 
ter go back to bed, seein’ it’s nigh noon.” “ There, 
honey, you jest drink this, an’ it ’ll do you good,” 
came in the next second from the same lips, in 



44 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


such dulcet tones, that Caesar rubbed his head 
in sheer astonishment, and gazed with open 
mouth and eyes upon Nan, who was holding the 
glass to Sally’s mouth, as caressingly as she 
would to a sick child’s. 

The battle was won; won by a tone and a 
tear; won, as, ever since the days of Goliath, so 
many battles have been won by the feebleness 
of weapons, and not by their might. 

When two days later, James Little, more than 
half unwillingly, spite of his gratitude to Hetty, 
came to take his position as overseer at “ Gunn’s,” 
he was met at the great gate by his wife, who 
had been watching there for him for an hour. 
He looked at her with undisguised wonder. 
There was a light in her eyes, a color in her 
cheeks, he had not seen there for many years. 
“ Why, Sally ! ” he exclaimed, but gave no other 
expression to his amazement. She understood. 

“ Oh, Jim ! ” she said, “ it is like heaven here : 
they ’re all so kind. I told you things would 
come round all right if we waited.” 

The new overseer found himself welcomed 
because he was Sally’s husband, and the strange¬ 
ness of this was a bewilderment indeed. He 
could hardly understand the atmosphere of cor¬ 
dial good feeling which seemed in so short time 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 45 


to have grown up between his wife and all the 
household. He had become so used to Sally’s 
sweet sad face, that he did not know how great 
a charm it held for others; and he had never 
seen in her the manner which she now wore to 
every one. One day’s kindly treatment had 
been to her like one day’s sunlight to a drooping 
plant. 

Hetty was relieved and glad. All her mis¬ 
givings had vanished; and she found growing 
up in her heart a great tenderness toward Sally. 
She recollected well the bright rosy face Sally 
had worn only a few years before, and the con¬ 
trast between it and her pale sorrow-stricken 
countenance now smote Hetty whenever she 
looked at her. Her sympathy, however, took no 
shape in words or caresses. She was too wise 
for that. She simply made it plain that Sally’s 
place in the family was to be a fixed and a busy 
one. 

“ I shall look after the out-door things, Sally,” 
she said. “ I have done that ever since father 
was so poorly, and I like it best. I shall trust to 
you to keep the house going all straight. Old 
Nan is’nt much of a housekeeper, though she’s 
a good cook : she needs looking after.” 

And so the new household entered on its first 



46 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


summer. The crops sprang up, abundant and 
green: all the cattle throve and increased: the 
big garden bloomed full of its old-fashioned 
flowers; its wide borders of balm and lavender 
made the whole road-side sweet: the doors stood 
open, and the cheery sounds of brisk farm life 
were to be heard all day long. To all passers-by 
“ Gunn’s ” seemed unchanged, unless it were that 
it had grown even more prosperous and active. 
But in the hall, two knobbed old canes which 
used to stand in the corner were hung by pur¬ 
ple ribbons from the great antlers on the wall, 
and would never be taken down again. Hetty 
had hung them there the day after the funeral, 
and had laid the squire’s riding-whip across 
them, saying to herself as she did so, — 

“ There! I ’ll keep those up there as long as I 
live, and I wonder what will become of them 
then or of the farm either,” and she had a long 
and sad reverie, standing with the riding-whip in 
her hand in the doorway, and tying and untying 
the purple ribbons. But she shook the thought 
off at last, saying to herself, — 

“ Well, well, I don’t suppose the farm ’ll go beg¬ 
ging. There are plenty of people that would be 
glad enough to have me give it to them. I ex¬ 
pect it will have to go to Cousin Josiah after all; 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 47 


but father couldn’t abide him. It’s a great pity 
I wasn’t a boy, then I could have married and 
had children to take it.” A sudden flush cov¬ 
ered Hetty’s face as she said this, and with 
a shamefaced, impatient twist of her expressive 
features, she ran in hastily and laid the whip 
above the canes. 

The only thing which broke in on the even 
tenor of this summer at Gunn’s was Caesar’s ex¬ 
periencing religion in a great revival at the 
Methodist church. Caesar had been under con¬ 
viction again and again ; but, as old Nan said 
pathetically to her minister, there didn’t seem to 
be “ nothin’ to ketch hold by in Caesar.” By the 
time his emotions had worked up to the proper 
climax for a successful result, he was “ done tired 
out,” and would “jest give right up” and “let go,” 
and “ there he was as bad’s ever, if not wuss.” 
Poor old Nan was a very ardent and sincere 
Christian, spite of her infirmities of temper, 
and she would wrestle in prayer with and for 
her husband till her black cheeks shone under 
streams of tears. She wrestled all the harder 
because the ungodly Caesar would sometimes 
turn upon her, and in the most sarcastic and un¬ 
generous way ask if he didn’t keep his temper 
better “ without religion than she did with it: ’* 



48 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


upon which Nan would groan and travail in 
spirit, and beseech the Lord not to “ go an’ let 
her be a stumbler-block in Caesar’s way.” The 
Squire’s death had produced a great impression 
on Caesar: from that day he had been, Nan 
declared, “quite a changed pusson and the im¬ 
pression deepened until three months later, in 
the course of a great midnight meeting in the 
Methodist church, Caesar Gunn suddenly an¬ 
nounced that he had “ got religion.” The one 
habit which it was hardest for Caesar to give up, 
in his new character, was the habit of swearing. 
Profanity had never been strongly discounte¬ 
nanced at “ Gunn’s.” The old Squire and the 
young Squire had both been in the habit of 
swearing, on occasion, as roundly as troopers ! 
and black Caesar was not going to be behind 
his masters, not he. So he, too, in spite of old 
Nan’s protestations and entreaties, had become 
a confirmed swearer. It had really grown into 
so fixed a habit that the words meant nothing: 
it was no more than a trick of physical contor¬ 
tion of which a man may be utterly unconscious. 
How to break himself of this was Caesar’s diffi¬ 
culty. 

“ Yer see, Nan !” he said, “I dunno when it’s 
a cornin’: the fust I know, it’s said and done, 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY . 


49 


an’ what am I goin’ to do ’bout it then, ’ll yer 
tell me ? ” At last, Caesar hit on a compromise 
which seemed to him a singularly happy one. 
To avoid saying “damn” was manifestly impos¬ 
sible : the word slipped out perpetually without 
giving him warning ; as soon as he heard it, how¬ 
ever, his righteous soul remorsefully followed 
up the syllable by, — 

“Bress the Lord,” in Stentorian tones. The 
compound ejaculation thus formed was one 
which nobody’s gravity could resist; and the 
surprised and grieved expression with which 
poor Caesar would look round upon an audience 
which he had thus convulsed was even more 
irresistible than the original expression. Every¬ 
body who came to “ Gunn’s ” went away and 
said, — 

“ Have you heard the new oath Caesar Gunn 
swears with since he got religion ? ” and “ Damn 
bress the Lord ” soon became a very by-word in 
the town. 



50 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


IV. 

'PEARLY in the autumn, Deacon Little’s wife 
came one morning to the house and asked to 
see Hetty alone. Hetty met her with great cool¬ 
ness and remained standing, with evident purpose 
to regard the interview as simply one of business. 
As heartily as it was in Hetty Gunn’s nature 
to dislike any one, and that was very heartily, 
she disliked Mrs. Little. Again and again, 
during the six months that James and Sally had 
been living in her house, Hetty had asked 
Deacon and Mrs. Little to come and spend the 
day with them there. The deacon always had 
come alone, bringing feeble apologies for Mrs. 
Little, on score of headaches, previous engage¬ 
ments, and so on ; but privately, to Hetty, he had 
confessed the truth, saying, — 

“You see, Hetty, she hasn’t spoken to Sally 
yet; and she says she never will: just to see 
her on the street, gives her a dreadful nervous 
headache, sometimes for two days. Mrs. Little’s 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 51 


nerves are too much for her always : she ain’t 
strong, you know, Hetty.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” exclaimed Hetty at last, bluntly. 
“ It isn’t nerves, it’s temper, and a most unchris¬ 
tian temper too, begging your pardon. Deacon, 
I know she’s your wife. If I were Jim, I’d never 
go near her, never, so long as she wouldn’t speak 
to Sally. I shan’t ask her again, and you may 
tell her so; and you may tell her, too, that I say 
I’d rather take my chance of being forgiven for 
what Sally’s done than for what she’s doing.” 
And Hetty strode up and down her piazza wrath- 
fully. 

“ There are plenty of people in town who do 
come here, and do speak to Sally,” she continued; 
“and ever so many of them have told me how 
much they were coming to like her. She hasn’t 
got any great force I know. If she had had, 
such a fellow as your Jim couldn’t have led her 
away as he did: but she’s got all the force the 
Lord gave her; and if ever there was a girl that 
repented for a sin, and atoned for it too, it’s 
Sally ; and I’d a good deal rather be in her place 
to-day, than in the place of any of the people that 
set themselves up as too good to speak to her. 
She’s a loving, patient-souled creature, and she’s 
been a real comfort to me ever since she came into 



52 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


my house ; and anybody that won’t speak to her 
needn’t speak to me, that’s all.” Poor Deacon 
Little twirled his hat in his hands, and moved 
about uneasily on his chair, during Hetty’s ex¬ 
cited speech. When he spoke, his distress was 
so evident in his voice that Hetty relented and 
was ashamed of herself instantly. 

“ Don’t be too hard on Mrs. Little, Hetty,” he 
said, “you know Jim was her favorite of all the 
children ; and she can’t never see it anyways 
but that Sally’s been his ruin. Now I don’t see 
it that way; and I’ve always tried to be good 
to Sally, in all ways that I could be, things being 
as they were at home. You know a man ain’t 
always free to do’s he likes, Hetty. He can’t 
go against his wife, leastways not when she’s 
feeble like Mrs. Little.” 

“ No, no, Deacon Little,” Hetty hastened to 
say, “I never meant to reproach you. Sally 
always says you’ve been good to her. I ’m very 
sorry that I spoke so about Mrs. Little ; not 
that I can take-a word of it back, though,” added 
Hetty, her anger still rising hotly at mention of 
the name; “but I’ll never say a word to you 
about it again. It isn’t fair.” 

Deacon Little repeated this conversation to 
his wife, and told Hetty that he had done so. It 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


53 


was therefore with great surprise that Hetty 
found herself on this morning face to face in her 
own home with Mrs. Little. 

“ What in the world can have brought her 
here ? ” thought Hetty, as she walked slowly 
towards the sitting-room, “ no good I ’ll be bound ; ” 
and it was with a look almost of defiance that she 
stood before her, waiting for her to speak. Mrs. 
Little with all her immovability of prejudice was 
a timid woman, and moreover was especially 
afraid of Hetty Gunn. Hetty’s independent, 
downright, out-spoken ways were alarming to 
her nervous, conservative, narrow-minded soul. 

“ I expect you ’re surprised to see me here, 
Hetty,” she began. 

“ Very much,” interrupted Hetty curtly, in a 
hard tone. A long silence ensued, which Hetty 
made no movement to break, but stood with her 
arms folded, looking Mrs. Little in the eye. 

“ I came — to — tell — to let you know — Mr. 
Little he wanted me to come and tell you — he 
didn’t like to — ” she stammered. 

Hetty’s quick instinct took alarm. 

“ If it’s any thing you’ve got to say against 
that poor girl out there,” pointing to the garden, 
where Sally was busy tying up chrysanthemums 
“ you may as well save yourself the trouble. I 



54 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


shan’t hear it,” and Hetty looked her unwelcome 
visitor still more defiantly in the face. Mrs. Little 
colored, and stung at last into a command of her 
organs of speech, said, not without dignity: 

“You needn’t suppose that I wish to do 
any thing to injure the woman my son has 
married. It was Jim who asked his father to 
tell you—” 

“ For goodness’ sake, do say what it is you ’ve 
got to say, can’t you ? ” burst out Hetty, impa¬ 
tiently. But Mrs. Little was not to be hurried. 
Between her uneasiness at being face to face 
with Hetty, and her false sense of embarrass¬ 
ment in speaking of the subject she had come to 
speak of, it took her a long time to make Hetty 
understand that poor Sally, finding that she was 
to be a mother again, had been afraid to tell 
Hetty herself, and had taken this method of 
letting her know the fact. 

Hetty listened breathlessly, her blue eyes open¬ 
ing wide, and her cheeks growing red. She 
did not speak. Mrs. Little misinterpreted her 
silence. 

“ If you didn’t want the baby here, I’d take 
it,” she said almost beseechingly, “ if Sally’d let 
me: it would break Jim’s heart if they should 
have to leave here.” 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 55 


“ Not want the baby ! ” shouted Hetty, in a 
voice which reached Sally in the garden, and 
made her look up, thinking she was called. “ I 
should think you must be crazy, Mrs. Little 
and, with the involuntary words, there entered 
for the first time into her mind a wonder 
whether Mrs. Little’s whole treatment of her 
son and his wife were not so monstrous as to 
warrant a doubt as to her sanity. “Not want 
the baby! Why I’d give half the farm to 
have a baby running about here. How could 
Sally help knowing I’d be glad ? ” and Hetty 
moved swiftly towards the door, to go and 
seek Sally. Recollecting herself suddenly, she 
turned, and, halting on the threshold, said in 
her hardest tone : 

“ Is there any thing else you wish to say ? ” 
There was ignominious dismissal in her tone, 
hex look, her attitude; and Mrs. Little said 
hastily: 

“ Oh, no, nothing, nothing ! I only want to tell 
you that I’d like to thank you, though, for all 
your kindness to Jim ; ” and Mrs. Little’s lips 
quivered, and the tears came into her eyes. 
Hetty was unmoved by them. 

“ I think more of Sally than I do of Jim,” she 
said severely. “ It’s all owing to Sally that he's 



56 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


got a chance to hold up his head again. Good 
morning, Mrs. Little ; ” and Hetty walked out of 
one door, leaving her guest to make her own 
way out of the other. 

Sally found it hard to believe in Hetty’s readi¬ 
ness to welcome her baby. 

“ Oh! you don’t know, Hetty, how it will set 
everybody to talking again,” said the poor girl. 
“You are so different from other folks. You 
can’t understand. I don’t suppose my children 
ever would be allowed to play with other children, 
do you ? ” she asked mournfully. “ That was 
one thing which comforted me when my baby 
died. I thought she wouldn’t live to have 
anybody despise her because she had had me 
for a mother. Somehow it don’t seem fair, 
does it, Hetty, to have people punished for 
what their parents do ? But the minister over 
at the Corners, that used to come and see me, 
he said that was what it meant in the Bible, 
where it said : 4 Unto the third and fourth gen¬ 
eration.’ But I can’t think it’s so bad as that. 
You don’t believe, Hetty, do you, that if I 
should have several children, and they should 
be married, that their grandchildren would ever 
hear any thing about me, how wicked I had 
been : do you, Hetty ? ” 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


57 


“No, indeed, child!" said Hetty sharply, feel¬ 
ing as if she should cry. “Of course I don't 
believe any such thing; and, if I did, I wouldn’t 
worry over it. Why, I don’t even know my 
great-grandmother’s name,” she laughed, “much 
less whether she were good or bad.” 

“ Oh, but the bad things last so ! ” said Sally. 
“ Nobody says any thing about the good things : 
it’s always the bad ones. I don’t see why 
people like to: if they didn’t, there’d be some 
chance of a thing’s being forgotten.” 

“Never you mind, Sally,” said Hetty, in a 
tone unusually caressing for her. “Never you 
mind, nobody talks about you now, except to say 
the good things; and you are always going to 
stay with me as long as I live, and when that 
baby comes we’ll just wonder how we ever got 
along without him.” 

“Oh, Hetty, you’re just one of the Lord’s 
angels ! ” cried Sally. 

“ Humph ! ” said Hetty. “ I hope he’s got 
better ones. There wasn’t much angel about 
me this morning when that mother-in-law of 
yours was here, I can tell you. I wonder if 
she’ll have the heart to keep away after the 
baby’s born.” 

“I thought of that, too,” said Sally, timidly. 



58 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


u If it should be a boy, I think maybe she ’d be 
pleased. She always did worship Jim. That’s 
the reason she hates me so,” sighed Sally. 

It was the last of March before the longed- 
for baby came. Never did baby have a better 
welcome. It was as if three mothers had 
awaited his coming. Hetty’s happiness was 
far greater than Sally’s, and Nan’s was hardly 
less. Hetty had been astonished at herself for 
the passionate yearning she had felt towards the 
little unborn creature from the beginning, and, 
when she took the little fellow in her arms, her 
first thought was, “ Dear me! if mothers feel 
any more than I feel now, how can they bear 
it ? ” Turning to Jim, she exclaimed, “ Oh, Jim ! 
I’m sure you ought to be happy now. We ’ll 
name this little chap after you, James Little, 
Junior.” 

“ No ! ” said Jim, doggedly, “ I ’ll not hand 
down that name. The sooner it is forgotten the 
better.” All the sunshine and peace of his new 
home had not been enough wholly to brighten 
or heal Jim’s wounded spirit. Hetty had found 
herself baffled at every turn by a sort of inertia 
of sadness, harder to deal with than any other 
form of mental depression. 

“You’re very wrong, Jim,” replied Hetty, 




HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


59 


earnestly. “The name is your own to make 
or to mar, and you ought to be proud to hand 
it down.” 

“ You can’t judge about that, Hetty,” said Jim. 
“ It stands to reason that you can’t have any idea 
about the feeling of being disgraced. I don’t 
believe a man can ever shake it off in this 
world: if he can in any other, I have my doubts. 
I don’t know what the orthodox people ever 
wanted to get up their theory of a hell for. 
A man can be a worse hell to himself, than 
any hell they can invent to put him into. I 
know that.” 

“Jim!” exclaimed Hetty, “how dare you 
speak so, with this dear little innocent baby’s 
eyes looking up at you ? ” 

“ That’s just the reason,” answered Jim, 
bitterly. “ If this baby hadn’t come, there 
seemed to be some chance of our outgrowing 
the memory of the things we’d like to forget 
and have forgotten. But this just rakes it all 
up again as bad as ever. You’ll see: you don’t 
know people so well as Sally and I do.” 

Before many weeks had passed, Hetty was 
forced to admit that Jim was partly in the right. 
Neighbor after neighbor, under the guise of a 
friendly interest in the baby, took occasion to go 



6o 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


over all the details of the first baby’s life and 
death ; and there was, in their manner to Sally, 
a certain new and pitying condescension which 
filled Hetty with wrath. 

“ What a mercy ’tis, ’tis a boy,” said one visi¬ 
tor sanctimoniously to Hetty, as they left Sally’s 
room together. Hetty turned upon her like 
lightning. 

“ I ’d like to know what you mean by that,” 
she said sharply. The woman hesitated, and at 
last said: 

“Why you know, of course, such things are 
not so much consequence to men.” 

“ Such things as what ? ” said Hetty, bluntly. 
“ I don’t understand you.” When at last her 
visitor put her meaning into unmistakable words, 
Hetty wheeled (they were walking down the 
long pine-shaded avenue together); stood still; 
and folding her arms on her bosom said: 

“ There ! that was what I wanted. I thought 
if you were driven to putting it into plain Eng¬ 
lish, perhaps you’d see how abominable it was 
to think it.” 

“ No, no, you needn’t try to smooth it down,” 
she continued, interrupting her guest’s efforts to 
mollify her by a few deprecating words. “ You 
can’t unsay it, now it’s said; and saying it’s 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


61 


no worse than thinking it. I don’t envy you your 
thoughts, though. I’ve always stood up for Sally, 
and I always shall, and anybody that is stupid 
enough to suppose, because I stand up for her, 
I justify what she did that was wrong, is wel¬ 
come : I don’t care. Sally is a good, patient, 
loving woman to-day; I don’t know anybody more 
so: I, for one, respect her. I wish I could be 
half as patient; ” and Hetty stooped, and, picking 
up a handful of the pine-needles with which the 
road was thickly strewn, crumbled them up 
fiercely in her hands, and tossing the dust high 
in the air, exclaimed : 

“ I wouldn’t give that for the character of any 
woman that can’t believe in another woman’s 
having thoroughly repented of having done 
wrong.” 

“ Oh! nobody doubts that Sally has repented,” 
said the embarrassed visitor. 

“ Oh, they don’t ? ” said Hetty, in a sarcastic 
tone ; “ well then I’d like to ask them what they 
mean by treating her as they do. I’d like to ask 
them what the Lord does to sinners that repent. 
He says they are to come and be with him in 
Heaven, I believe ; and I’d like to know whethei 
after He’s taken them to Heaven, they ’re going to 
be reminded every minute of all the sins they’ve 
repented of. Oh, but I’ve no patience with it J ” 



62 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


As Hetty was walking slowly back to the 
house after this injudicious outburst, she met 
Dr. Eben Williams coming down the avenue. 
Her first impulse was to plunge into the shrub¬ 
bery, on the right hand or the left, and escape 
him. The baby was now four weeks old, and 
yet Hetty had never till to-day seen the doctor. 
It had been a very sore point between her and 
Sally, that Sally would persist in having this 
young Dr. Williams from the “ Corners,” in¬ 
stead of old Dr. Tuthill, who had been the 
family doctor at “ Gunn’s ” for nearly fifty years. 
It was the only quarrel that Hetty and Sally had 
ever had ; and it came near being a very serious 
one : but Hetty suddenly recollected herself, and 
exclaiming: 

“ Why bless me, Sally, I haven’t any right to 
decide what doctor you ’re to have when you ’re 
sick ; I ’ll never say another word about it; only 
you needn’t expect me ever to speak to that 
Eben Williams ; I never expected to see him 
under my roof,” she dropped the subject and 
never alluded to it again. 

Her first impulse, as we said, when she saw 
the obnoxious doctor coming towards her now, 
was to fly; her second one of anger with her* 
self for the first. 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 63 


“ I’m on my own ground,” she thought with 
some of the old Squire’s honest pride stirring 
her veins, “ I think I will not run away from 
the popinjay.” 

It was hard to know just how such a dislike 
to Dr. Eben Williams had grown up in Hetty’s 
friendly heart. He had come some four years 
before to practise medicine at Lonway Four 
Corners. His bright and cordial face, his social 
manner, his superior education, readiness, and 
resource, had quickly won away many patients 
from old Dr. Tuthill, who still drove about the 
country as he had driven for half a century, with 
a ponderous black leather case full of calomel 
and jalap swung under his sulky. A few old 
families, the Gunns among the number, adhered 
faithfully to the old doctor, and became bitter 
partisans against the new one. 

“ Let him stick to the Corners: if they like 
him there, they’re welcome to him. He needn’t 
be trying to get all Welbury besides,” they 
said angrily. “ Welbury’s done very well for 
a doctor, these good many years: since be¬ 
fore Eben Williams was born, for that matter 
and words ran high in the warfare. Squire 
Gunn was one of the most violent of Dr. 
Williams’s opposers; and when, a few days be* 



64 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


fore his death, old Dr. Tuthill had timidly 
suggested that it might be well to have a con¬ 
sultation, the Squire broke out with : 

“Not that damned Eben Williams then. I 
won’t have that damned rascal set foot in this 
house. You ’re a fool, Tuthill, to let that young 
upstart get all your practice as he’s a doing.” 

The old man smiled sadly. He did not in the 
least share his friends’ hostility to the handsome, 
young, and energetic physician who was so plainly 
soon to be his successor in the county. 

“Ah, Squire!” he said, “you forget how old 
you and I are. It is nearly my time to pass on, 
and make room for a younger man. Eben’s a 
good doctor. I’d rather he’d have the circuit 
here than anybody I know.” 

“ Damned interloper ! let him wait till you ’re 
dead,” growled the Squire. “ He shan’t have 
a hand in finishing me off at any rate. I don’t 
want any of their new-fangled notions.” And 
the Squire died as he had lived, on the old plan, 
with the old doctor. 

When Eben Williams saw that he was about 
to meet Hetty Gunn, his emotions were hardly 
less conflicting than hers. He, too, would have 
liked to escape the meeting, for he had under¬ 
stood clearly that his presence in her house was 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY . 65 


most unwelcome to her. But he, too, had his 
own pride, as distinct and as strong as hers, and 
at the very moment that Hetty was saying to 
herself, “ I ’m on my own ground: I won’t run 
away from the popinjay,” Dr. Eben was think¬ 
ing in his heart, “ What a fool I am to care a 
straw about meeting her! I’m about my own 
business, and she is an obstinate simpleton.” 

The expressions of their faces as they met, 
and passed, with cold bows, were truly comical ; 
each so thoroughly conscious of the other’s an¬ 
tagonism, and endeavoring to look unconscious 
of it. 

“By Jove, she’s got a charming face, if she 
didn’t look so obstinate,” said Dr. Eben to 
himself, as he hurried on. 

“He looked at me as he’d have looked at a 
snake,” thought Hetty. “ I guess he’s an hon¬ 
est fellow after all. He’s got a handsome beard 
of his own.” 

When she entered Sally’s room, Sally ex¬ 
claimed, “Oh, Hetty! didn’t you meet the 
doctor ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Hetty, coolly. Sally looked wist¬ 
fully at her for a few seconds. “ Oh, Hetty! ” 
she said, “ I thought, perhaps, if you saw him, 
you’d like him better.” 



66 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ I never said any thing against his looks, did 
I ? ” laughed Hetty. “He is a very handsome 
man: he is the handsomest man I ever saw, if 
that’s all!” 

“ But it isn’t all; it isn’t any thing! ” ex¬ 
claimed Sally. “ If he were an ugly dwarf, I 
should love him just as well Oh, Hetty, if you 
only knew how good he was to me, when I was 
sick seven years ago! I should have died if it 
hadn’t been for him. There wasn’t a woman at 
the Corners that ever came near me, except Mrs. 
Patrick, the Irish woman I boarded with ; and, 
he used to stop and make broth for me, on my 
stove, with his own hands, and sit and hold the 
baby on his knees, and talk to me so beautifully 
about her. He just kept me alive.” 

Hetty’s face flushed. Sally had never told 
her so much before; she could not help a glow 
at her heart, at the picture of the handsome 
young doctor sitting with the poor, outcast baby 
on his knees, and comforting the poor outcast 
mother. But Hetty was a Gunn; and, as Dr. 
Eben had said, obstinate. She could not forget 
her partisanship for Dr. Tuthill. She was 
even all the angrier with the young doctor for 
being so clever, so kind, so skilful, so handsome, 
and so pleasant, that everybody wanted him. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 67 


“I dare say,” she replied. “He’d do any 
thing to curry favor. He’s been determined 
from the first to get all the practice of the whole 
county, and I suppose as soon as Doctor Tuthill 
dies, he ’ll have it; and he may as well, for I 
don’t doubt he’s a good doctor: but I'think it 
was a mean underhand thing to come in here 
and try to cut another man out.” 

“ Why, Hetty! ” remonstrated Sally, in a tone 
of unusual vehemence for her. “ Why, Hetty ; 
there wasn’t any doctor at the Corners : he didn’t 
cut anybody out there ; and I’m sure they needed 
a doctor bad enough ; and it was his native place 
too.” 

“ Oh ! that’s all very well to say,” answered 
Hetty. “ It’s a likely story, isn’t it, that any¬ 
body’d settle in Lonway Four Corners, just for 
the little practice there is in that handful of a 
village. He knew very well he’d get Welbury, 
and Springton, and all the county.” 

“ But, Hetty,” persisted Sally. “ He wasn’t to 
blame, if people in these towns sent for him, 
hearing how good he was. Indeed, indeed, 
Hetty, he don’t care for the money. He 
wouldn’t take a cent from Jim, and he never 
does from poor people. I’ve heard him say a 
dozen times, that he should have come home to 




68 HETTY'S STRAJVGE HISTORY. 


live on the old farm, even if they hadn’t needed 
a doctor there : he loves the country so, he can’t 
be happy in the city ; and he loves every stick 
and stone of the old farm.” 

“ Humph! ” said Hetty. “ He looks like a 
country fellow, doesn’t he, with his fine clothes, 
and his gauntlet gloves ! Don’t tell me! I say 
he is a popinjay, with all his learning. Now 
don’t talk any more about it, little woman, for 
your cheeks are getting too red,” and Hetty 
took up the baby, and began to toss him and 
talk to him. 

Hetty knew in her heart that she was unjust. 
More than she would have owned to herself, and 
still more than she would have acknowledged to 
Sally, she had admired Eben Williams’s honest, 
straightforward, warm-hearted face. But she 
preferred to dislike Eben Williams : her father 
had disliked him, and had said he should 
never set foot in the house; and Hetty felt a 
certain sort of filial obligation to keep up the 
animosity. 

But Nature had other plans for Hetty. In 
fact if one were disposed to be superstitious, 
one might well have said that fate itself had 
determined to thwart Hetty’s resolution of hos¬ 
tility. 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 69 


V. 

O ALLY did not recover rapidly from her 
^ illness : her long mental suffering had told 
upon her vitality, and left her unprepared for 
any strain. The little baby also languished, 
sharing its mother’s depressed condition. Day 
after day, Doctor Eben came to the house. His 
quick step sounded in the hall and on the 
stairs; his voice rang cheery, whenever the 
door of Sally’s room stood open. Hetty found 
herself more and more conscious of his presence : 
each day she felt a half guilty desire to see 
him again ; she caught herself watching for his 
knock, listening for his step; she even went so 
far as to wonder in a half impatient way why he 
never sent for her, to give her the directions 
about Sally, instead of giving them to the nurse. 
She little dreamed that Doctor Eben was as 
anxious to avoid seeing her, as she had been to 
avoid seeing him. He had a strangely resentful 
feeling towards Hetty, as if she were a personal 



70 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


friend who had been treacherous to him. She 
was the only one of all the partisans of Doctor 
Tuthill that he could not sympathize with and 
heartily forgive. He would have found it very 
hard to explain why he thus singled out Hetty, 
but he had done so from the outset. Strange 
forerunning instinct of love, which uttered its 
prophecy in an unknown tongue in an alien 
country! There came a day before long, when 
Doctor Eben and Hetty were forced to forget all 
their prejudices, and to come together on a com¬ 
mon ground, where no antagonisms could exist. 

Sally and the baby were both very ill. Hetty, 
in her inexperience of illness, had not real¬ 
ized how serious a symptom Sally’s long con¬ 
tinued prostration was. In her own busy and 
active life, the days flew by almost uncounted: 
she was out early and late, walking or riding 
over the farm; and when she came back to 
Sally’s room, and found her always with the 
same placid smile, and fair untroubled face, and 
heard always the same patient reply, “ Very com¬ 
fortable, thank you, dear Hetty,” it never oc¬ 
curred to her that any thing was wrong. It 
seemed strange to her that the baby was so 
still, that he neither cried nor laughed like 
other babies ; and it seemed to her very hard for 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


71 


Sally to have to be shut up in the house so long: 
but this was all; she was totally unprepared for 
any thought of danger, and the shock was terri¬ 
ble to her, when the thought came. It was on 
a sunny day in May, one of those incredible 
summer days which New England sometimes 
flashes out like frost-set jewels in her icy spring. 
Hetty had listened, as usual, to hear the Doctor 
leave Sally’s room: she was more than usually 
impatient to have him go, for she was waiting to 
take in to Sally a big basket of arbutus blossoms 
which old Caesar had gathered, and had brought 
to Hetty with a characteristic speech. 

“ Seems’s if the Lord meant’em for baby’s 
cheeks, don’t it, Miss Hetty ? they’re so rosy.” 

“ Our poor little man’s cheeks are not so pink 
yet,” said Hetty, and as she looked at the pearly 
pink bells nestling in their green leaves, she 
sighed, and wished that the baby did not look 
so pale. “ But he ’ll be all right as soon as we 
can get him out of doors in the June sunshine,” 
she added, and turned from the dining-room into 
the hall, with the great basket of arbutus in her 
hand. As she turned, she gave a cry, and 
dropped her flowers : there sat Dr. Eben, in a 
big arm-chair, by the doorway. He sprang to 
pick up the flowers. Hetty looked at him with- 



72 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


out speaking. “ I was waiting here to see you, 
Miss Gunn,” he said, as he gave back the flowers. 
“ I am very sorry to be obliged to speak to you,” 
— here Hetty’s eyes twinkled, and a slight, 
almost imperceptible, but very comic grimace 
passed over her face. She was thinking to her¬ 
self, “ Honest, that! I expect he is very sorry,” — 
“ I am very sorry to have to speak to you about 
Mrs. Little,” he continued ; “but I think it is my 
duty to tell you that she is sinking very fast.” 

“ What! Sally! what is the matter with her ? ” 
exclaimed Hetty. “ Come right in here, doctor 
and she threw open the sitting-room door, and, 
leading him in, sank into the nearest chair, and 
said, like a little child: 

“ Oh, dear! what shall I do ? ” 

Dr. Eben looked at her for a second, 
scrutinizingly. 

This was not the sort of person he had ex¬ 
pected to see in Miss Hetty Gunn. This was an 
impulsive, outspoken, loving woman, without a 
trace of any thing masculine about her, unless it 
were a certain something in the quality of her 
frankness, which was masculine rather than fem¬ 
inine ; it was more purely objective than women’s 
frankness is wont to be : this Dr. Eben thought 
out later ; at present, he only thought: 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


73 


“ Poor girl! I’ve got to hurt her sadly.” 

“You don’t mean that Sally’s going to die, do 
you ? ” said Hetty, in a clear, unflinching tone. 

“ I am afraid she will, Miss Gunn,” replied Dr. 
Eben, “ not immediately; perhaps not for some 
months : but there seems to be a general failure 
of all the vital forces. I cannot rouse her, body 
or soul.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” said Hetty. “ If rousing is all 
she wants, surely we can rouse her somehow. 
Isn’t there any thing wrong with her anywhere ? ” 

Dr. Eben smiled in spite of himself at this off¬ 
hand, non-professional view of the case; but he 
answered, sadly: 

“ Not what you mean by any thing wrong ; if 
there were, it would be easier to cure her.” 

Hetty knitted her brows, and looked at him 
in her turn, scrutinizingly. “ Have you had 
patients like her before ? ” 

“Yes,” said Dr. Eben. 

“ Did they all die ? Didn’t you cure one ? ” 
continued Hetty, inexorably. 

“ I have known persons in such a condition to 
recover,” said Dr. Eben, with dignity; “ but not 
by the help of medicine so much as by an entire 
change of conditions.” 

“ What do you mean by conditions ? ” said 




74 HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


Hetty, never having heard, in her simple and 
healthful life, of anybody’s needing what is called 
a “change of scene.” Dr. Eben smiled again, 
and, as he smiled, he noted with an involuntary 
professional delight the clear, fine skin, the firm 
flesh, the lustrous eye, the steady poise of 
every muscle in this woman, who was catechising 
him, with so evident a doubt as to his skill and 
information. 

“ I hardly think, Miss Gunn,” he went on, 
“that I could make you understand, in your 
superb health, just all I mean by change of con¬ 
ditions. It means change of food, air, surround¬ 
ings ; every thing in short, which addresses 
itself to the senses. It means an entire new set 
of nerve impressions.” 

“ Sally isn’t in the least nervous,” broke in 
Hetty. “ She’s always as quiet as a mouse.” 

“You mean that she isn’t in the least fidgety,” 
replied the doctor. “That is quite another thing. 
Some of the most nervous people I know have 
absolute quiet of manner. Mrs. Little’s nervous 
system has been for several years under a terri¬ 
ble strain. When I was first called to her, I 
thought her trouble and suffering would kill her; 
and I didn’t think it would take so long. But it 
is that which is killing her now.” 




HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


7 5 


Hetty was not listening: she was thinking 
very perplexedly of what the doctor had said a 
tew moments before ; interrupting him now, she 
said, “ Would it do Sally good to take her to an¬ 
other place ? that is easily done.” Dr. Eben 
hesitated. 

“ I think sea-air might help her; but I am not 
sure,” he replied. 

“ Would you go with us ? ” asked Hetty. “ She 
wouldn’t go without you.” The doctor hesitated 
again. He looked into Hetty’s eyes : they were 
fixed on his as steadily, as unembarrassedly, as if 
he and Hetty had been comrades for years. 
“ What a woman she is,” he thought to himself, 
“to coolly ask me to become their travelling 
physician, when for six weeks I have been 
coming to the house every day, and she would 
not even speak to me! ” 

“ I am not sure that I could, Miss Gunn,” he 
replied. Hetty’s face changed. A look of dis¬ 
tress stamped every feature. 

“ Oh, Dr. Williams, do! ” she exclaimed. 
“ Sally would never go without you; and she will 
die, you say, unless she has change.” Then 
hesitating, and turning very red, Hetty stam¬ 
mered, “I can pay you any thing — which would 
be necessary to compensate you: we have 



76 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


money enough.” Dr. Eben bowed, and an¬ 
swered with some asperity: 

“ The patients that I had hesitancy about leav¬ 
ing are patients who pay me nothing. It is not 
in the least a question of money, Miss Gunn.” 

“Forgive me,” exclaimed Hetty, “I did not 
know — I thought — ” 

“Your thought was a perfectly natural one, 
Miss Gunn,” interrupted the doctor, pitying her 
confusion. “ I have never had need to make my 
profession a source of income : I have no am¬ 
bition to be rich; and, as I am alone in the 
world, I can afford to do what many other 
physicians could not.” 

“When can you tell if you could go?” con¬ 
tinued Hetty, not apparently hearing what the 
doctor had said. 

“ She only thinks of me as she would of a 
chair or a carriage which would make her friend 
more comfortable,” thought the doctor; “ and 
why should she think of me in any other way,” 
he added, impatient with himself for the selfish 
thought. 

“ To-morrow,” said he, curtly. “ If I can go, I 
will; and there is no time to be lost.” 

Hetty nodded her head, but did not speak 
another word: she was too near crying; and to 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


77 


have cried in the presence of Dr. Eben Williams 
would have mortified Hetty to the core. 

“ Oh, to think,” she said to herself, “ that, after 
all, I should have to be under such obligations to 
that man! But it is all for Sally’s sake, poor 
dear child. How good he is to her! If he were 
anybody else, I should like him with all my heart.” 

The next morning, as Dr. Williams walked 
slowly up the avenue, he saw Hetty standing in 
the doorway, shading her eyes with her hand and 
looking towards him. The morning sun shone 
full upon her, and made glints of golden light 
here and there in her thick brown curls. Hetty 
had worn her hair in the same style for fifteen 
years; short, clustering curls close to her head 
on either side, and a great mass of curls falling 
over a comb at the back. If Hetty had a vanity 
it was of her hair; and it was a vanity one was 
forced to forgive, — it had such excellent reason 
for being. The picture which she made in the 
doorway, at this moment, Dr. Eben never forgot: 
a strange pleasure thrilled through him at the 
sight. As he drew near, she ran down the steps 
towards him; ran down with no more thought 
or consciousness of the appearance of welcoming 
him, than if she had been a child of seven: she 
was impatient to know whether Sally could go to 



yS HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


the sea-shore. This man who approached held 
the decision in his hands; and he was, at that 
moment, no more to Hetty than any messenger 
bringing word which she was eager to hear. 
But Dr. Eben would have been more or less 
than man, could he have seen, unmoved, the 
swift motion, the outstretched hands, the eager 
eyes, the bright cheeks, the sunlit hair, of the 
beautiful woman who ran to meet him. 

“ Well ? ” was all that Hetty said, as, panting 
for want of breath, she turned as shortly as 
a wild creature turns, and began to walk by Dr. 
Eben’s side. He forgot, for the instant, all the 
old antagonisms ; he forgot that, until yesterday, 
he had never spoken with Hetty Gunn ; and, 
meeting her eager gaze with one about as eager, 
he said in a familiar tone : 

“Yes; well! I am going.” 

Hetty stopped short, and, looking up at him, 
exclaimed: 

“ Oh, I am so glad! ” 

The words were simple enough, but the tone 
made them electric. The doctor felt the blood 
mounting in his face, under the unconscious look 
of this middle-aged child. She did not perceive 
his expression. She did not perceive any thing, 
except the fact that Sally’s doctor would help 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 79 


her take Sally away, and save Sally’s life. She 
continued: 

“ We ’ll take her to * The Runs.’ Did you ever 
go there, doctor? It is only a day’s journey 
from here, the loveliest little sea-side place I ever 
saw. It isn’t like the big sea-side places with 
their naked rocks, and their great, cruel, thun¬ 
dering beaches. I hate those. They make me 
sad and desperate. I know Sally wouldn’t like 
them. But this little place is as sweet and 
quiet as a lake; and yet it is the sea. It is 
hugged in between two tongues of land, and 
there are ever so many little threads of the sea, 
running way up into the meadows, which are 
thick with high strong grass, so different from 
all the grasses we have here. I buy salt hay 
from there every year, and the cattle like it, 
just a little of it, as well as we like a bit of 
broiled bacon for breakfast. There is a nice bit 
of beach, too, — real beach ; but there are trees 
on it, and it looks friendly: not as if it were just 
made on purpose for wrecks to drift up on, like 
the big beaches : oh, but I hate a great, long 
sea-beach! There is a farm-house there, not 
two minutes’ walk from this beach, where they 
always take summer boarders. In July it 
wouldn’t be pleasant, because it is crowded ; 



So 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY,\ 


but now it will be empty, and we can have it 
all to ourselves. There is a dear, old, retired, 
sea captain there, too, who takes people out in 
such a nice sail-boat. I shall keep Sally and 
the baby out on the water all day long. I am 
afraid you will find it very dull, Dr. Williams. 
Do you like the sea ? Of course you will stay 
with us all the time. I don’t mean in the least, 
that you are to come only once a day to see 
Sally, as you do here. You will be our guest, 
you understand. I dare say you will do more to 
cure Sally than all the sea-air and all the med¬ 
icine put together. She has had so few people 
to love in this world, poor girl, that those she 
does love are very dear to her. She is more 
grateful to you than to anybody else in the 
world.” 

“ Except you, Miss Gunn,” replied the doctor, 
earnestly. “You have done for her far more 
than I ever could. I could show only a personal 
sympathy; but you have added to the personal 
sympathy material aid.” 

“Yes, yes, I know,” said Hetty, absently. 
She did not wish to hear any thing said about 
this. “We can set out to-morrow, if you can 
be ready,” she continued. “ I shall have Caesar 
drive the horses over next week. They can’t 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


8 l 


very well be spared this week. The worst 
thing is, we have to set ant so early in the 
morning, and Sally is always so much weaker 
then. Could you ” — Hetty hesitated, and fairly 
stammered in her embarrassment. “ Couldn’t 
you come over here to-night and sleep, so as to 
be here when she first wakes up? You might 
do something to help her.” Before Hetty had 
finished her sentence, her face was crimson. 
Dr. Eben’s was full of a humorous amusement. 
Already, in twenty-four hours, had it come to this, 
that Hetty was urging that popinjay Dr. Eben- 
ezer Williams, to come and sleep under her roof ? 
The twinkle in his face showed her plainly 
what he was thinking. He began to reply: 

“You are very kind, Miss Gunn”— Hetty 
interrupted him: 

“No, I am not at all kind, Dr. Williams ; and 
I see you are laughing at me, because I’ve had 
to speak to you, after all, as if I liked you. But, 
of course, you understand that it is all for Sally’s 
sake. If I were to be ill myself, I should have 
Dr. Tuthill,” said Hetty, in a tone meant to be 
very resolute and dignified, but only succeeding 
in being comical. 

The doctor bowed ceremoniously, replying: 

“ I will be as frank as you are, Miss Gunn. As 



8 2 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


you say, ‘ of course ’ I understand that any ap¬ 
parent welcome which you extend to me is 
entirely for Mrs. Little’s sake ; and that it is 
sorely against your will that you have been 
obliged to speak to me ; and that it is solely in 
my capacity as physician that I am asked to 
sleep under your roof to-night; and I beg your 
pardon for saying that I accept the invitation 
in that capacity, and no other, solely because I 
believe it will be for the interest of my patient 
that I do so. Good morning, Miss Gunn,” and, as 
at that moment they reached the house, Dr, 
Eben bowed again as ceremoniously as before, 
sprang up the piazza steps, and ran up the 
staircase, two steps at a time, to Sally’s room. 
Hetty stood still in the doorway: she felt her¬ 
self discomfited. She was half angry, half 
amused. She did not like what the doctor had 
said; but she admitted to herself that it was 
precisely what she would have said in his place. 

“ I don’t blame him,” she thought, “ I don’t 
blame him a bit; but, it is horridly disagreeable. 
I don’t see how we ’re ever to get on ; and it is so 
provoking, for, if he were anybody else, we’d be 
real good friends. He isn’t in the least what I 
thought he was. I hope he won’t come over be¬ 
fore tea. It would be awkward enough. But 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 83 


then, he’s got to take all his meals with us at 
‘The Runs.’ Oh, dear!” and Hetty went about 
her preparations for the journey, with feelings by 
no means of unalloyed pleasure. 

No danger of Dr. Eben’s coming before tea. 
It was very late when he appeared, valise in hand, 
and said in a formal tone to Hetty, who met him 
at the door, in fact had been nervously watching 
for him for four whole hours : 

“ I am very sorry to see you still up, Miss 
Gunn. I ought to have recollected to tell you 
that I should not be here until late : I have been 
saying good-by to my patients. Will you have 
the kindness to let me be shown to my room ? ” 
and like a very courteous traveller, awaiting 
a landlady’s pleasure, he stood at foot of the 
stairs. 

With some confusion of manner, and in a con¬ 
strained tone, unlike her usual cheery voice, 
Hetty replied: 

“ The next door to Sally’s, doctor.” She 
wished to say something more, but she could 
not think of a word. 

“What a fool I am!” she mentally ejaculated, 
as the doctor, with a hasty “ good-night,” entered 
his room. “ What a fool I am to let him make 
me so uncomfortable. I don’t see what it is« 
I wish I hadn’t asked him to go.” 



84 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“That woman’s a jewel!” the doctor was 
saying to himself the other side of the door: 
“ she is as honest as a man could be. I didn’t 
know there could be any thing so honest in 
shape of a woman under fifty: she doesn’t 
look a day over twenty-five ; but, they say she’s 
nearly forty; it’s the strangest thing in life 
she’s never married. I ’ll wager any thing, she’s 
wishing this minute I was in Guinea ; but she ’ll 
put it through bravely for sake of Sally, as she 
calls her, and I ’ll keep out of her way all I can 
If it weren’t for the confounded notion she’s 
taken up against me, I’d like to know her. 
She’s a woman a man could make a friend of, I 
do believe,” and Dr. Eben jumped into bed, and 
was fast asleep in five minutes, and dreamed that 
Hetty came towards him, dressed like an Indian, 
with her brown curls stuck full of painted porcu¬ 
pine quills, and a tomahawk brandished in her 
hand. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY, 85 


VI. 

HTHE journey was a hard one, though so 
short. How many times an hour did 
Hetty bless the good fortune which had given 
them Dr. Williams for an escort! Sally had been 
so much excited and pleased at the prospect 
of the trip to the sea-shore, that she had seemed 
in the outset far stronger than she really was. 
Before mid-day a reaction had set in, and she 
had grown so weak that the doctor was evidently 
alarmed. The baby disturbed, and frightened 
by the noise and jar, had wailed almost inces¬ 
santly ; and Hetty was more nearly at her wits’ 
end than she had ever been in her life. It was 
piteous to see her, — usually so brisk, so authori 
tative, so unhesitating, — looking helplessly into 
the face of the doctor, and saying: 

“ Oh, what shall we do! what shall we do! ” 
At last, the weary day came to an end ; and 
when Hetty saw her two sufferers quietly asleep 
in snowy beds, in a great airy room, with a blaz¬ 
ing log-fire on the hearth, she drew a long 
breathy and said to the doctor: 



86 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“This is the most awful day I ever lived 
through.” 

Dr. Eben smiled. “You have had a life 
singularly free from troubles, Miss Gunn.” 

“ No ! ” said Hetty, “ I ’ve had a great deal. 
But there has always been something to do. 
The only things one can’t bear, it seems to me, 
are where one can’t do any thing, like to-day: 
that poor little baby crying, crying, and nothing 
to be done, but to wait for him to stop; and 
Sally looking as if she would die any minute; 
and that screaming steam-engine whirling us all 
along as if we were only dead freight. I.suppose 
if Sally had died, we should have had to keep 
right on, shouldn’t we?” 

“Yes,” said the doctor. Something in his 
tone arrested Hetty’s ear. She looked at him 
inquiringly ; then she said slowly : 

“ I understand you. I am ashamed. We were 
only three people out of hundreds : it is just like 
life, isn’t it: how selfish we are without realizing 
it! It isn’t of any consequence how or where or 
when any one of us dies: the train must keep 
right on. I see.” 

“Yes,” said the doctor again : and this mono¬ 
syllable meant even more than the other. Dr. 
Eben was a philosopher. Epictetus, and that 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 8? 


most royal of royal emperors, Marcus Aurelius, 
had been his masters: their words were ever 
present with him. “It is not possible that the 
nature of the universe, either through want of 
power or want of skill, has made a mistake;” 
“ nothing happens to any man which he is not 
formed by nature to bear,” — were hourly watch¬ 
words of thought with him. In this regard he 
and Hetty were alike, though they had reached 
their common standpoint by different roads : he 
by education and reasoning, and a profound 
admiration for the ancient classics; she by 
instinct and healthfulness of soul, and a pro¬ 
found love for that old Massachusetts militia¬ 
man, her grandfather. 

“The Runs” was, as Hetty had said, one of 
the loveliest of sea-side places. Dr. Eben, who 
was familiar with all the well-known sea-side 
resorts in America, was forced to admit that 
this little nook had a charm of its own, unlike 
all the others. The epithet “ hugged in,” which 
Hetty had used, was the very phrase to best 
convey it. It was at the mouth of a small river, 
which, as it drew near the sea, widened so sud¬ 
denly that it looked like a lake. The country, 
for miles about, was threaded by little streams 
of water: which of them were sea making up, 



88 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


and which were river coming down, it was hard 
to tell. In early morning they were blue as the 
sky overhead ; at sunset they glowed like a fiery 
net, suddenly flung over the grasses and rushes. 
Great flocks of marsh birds dwelt year after 
year in these cool, green labyrinths, and made no 
small part of the changeful beauty of the picture, 
rising sometimes, suddenly, in a dusky cloud, 
and floating away, soaring, and sinking, and at 
last dropping out of sight again, as suddenly as 
they had risen. The meadows were vivid green 
in June, vivid claret in October: no other grass 
spreads such splendor of tint on so superb a 
palette, as the salt-marsh grasses on the low, 
wide stretches of some of New England’s south¬ 
ern shores. Sailing down this river, and keeping 
close to the left-hand bank, one came almost 
unawares on a sharp bend to the left: here the 
river suddenly ended, and the sea began ; the 
rushes and reeds and high grasses ceased ; a 
low, rocky barrier stayed them. Rounding this 
point, lo, your boat swayed instantly to the left: 
a gentle surf-wave took possession of you, and 
irresistibly bore you towards a yellow sand 
beach, which curved inward like a reaper’s 
sickle, not more than a quarter of a mile long, 
from the handle to the shining point; smooth 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 89 


and glistening, strewn with polished pebbles 
and tiny shells, it seemed some half-hidden 
magic beach on which shallops of fairies might 
any moment come to moor. On the farther 
point, so close to the sea that it seemed to rise 
out of the water, stood a high stone lighthouse, 
with a revolving light, whose rays swept the 
open sea for many miles. The opposite river 
bank was a much higher one, and ran farther 
out to sea. On this promontory was Safe 
Haven, a small, thickly settled town, whose 
spires and house-tops, as seen from the beach at 
“ The Runs,” looked always like a picture, 
painted on the sky; white on gray in the 
morning, gray on crimson at sunset. The 
farmhouse of which we have spoken stood only 
a few rods back from the beach, and yet it had 
green fields on either hand ; and a row of Balm 
of Gilead trees in front; an old and sandy road, 
seldom disturbed by wheels, ran between these 
trees and the house, and rambled down towards 
the light-house. Wild pea and pimpernel made 
this road gay ; white clover and wild rose made 
it fragrant; and there branched off from it a 
lane, on which if you turned and strayed back 
into the fields, a mile or so, you came to thick¬ 
ets of wild azalia, and tracts of pink laurel; and, 



90 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY . 


a little way farther in, you came to fresh-water 
ponds which in July were white with lilies. No 
storm ever lashed the water high on the beach 
at “ The Runs ”; no sultriest summer calm ever 
stilled it; the even rhythm and delightsome 
cooling of its waves seemed to obey a law of 
their own, quite independent of the great boom¬ 
ing sea outside the light-house bar. 

In the quiet, and the beauty, and the keen 
salt air of this charmed spot, poor Sally Little 
lifted up her head, and began to live again, like 
a flower taken from desert sands and set by a 
spring. The baby also bloomed like a rose. In 
an incredibly short time, both mother and child 
had so altered that one would hardly have 
known them. The days went by, to them all, 
as days go by for children: unnamed, un¬ 
counted ; only marked by joy of sleep, and the 
delight of waking. In after years, when Hetty 
looked back upon these weeks, they seemed to 
her, not like a dream, which is usually the heart’s 
first choice of a phrase to describe the swift 
flight of a happy time, but like a few days spent 
on some other planet, where, for the interval, she 
had been changed into a sort of supernatural 
child. Except at night, they were never in the 
house. The harsh New England May laid aside 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


91 


for them all its treacheries, and was indeed the 
month of spring. Their mornings they spent 
on the water, rowing or sailing ; their afternoons 
in driving through the budding and blossoming 
country. Always the baby lay in Hetty’s lap: 
from the beginning, his nurse had found herself 
perpetually set aside by Hetty’s imperious affec¬ 
tion. As Eben Williams looked, day after day, 
on the picture which Hetty and the baby made, 
he found himself day after day more and more 
bewildered by Hetty. She had adopted towards 
him a uniform manner of cordial familiarity, 
which had in it, however, no shade of intimacy. 
If Hetty had been the veriest coquette living, 
she could not have devised a more effectual 
charm to a man of Eben Williams’s temperament. 
He had come out unscathed from many sieges 
which had been laid to him by women. He 
knew very well the ordinary methods, the 
atmosphere of the average wooing or wooable 
woman, and he was proof against them all. He 
was thirty years old and he had never yet been 
in love. But this woman, who treated him with 
the same easy, unconscious frankness with 
which men treat men, who never seemed to 
observe his going or his coming, otherwise than 
as it might affect her friend’s need of him as a 



92 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


physician; this woman who seemed all mother 
while she was holding the baby, and all boy 
while she was trying, under old Captain May- 
hew’s guidance to learn to sail a boat; this 
woman who was a spinster in years, and a child 
in simplicity and directness ; who was beautiful, 
and never once thought of her beauty ; who was 
alone, and never seemed lonely: she was a per¬ 
petual problem and fascination to him. Dr. 
Eben was not usually given to concerning him¬ 
self much as to other people’s opinion of him : 
but he found himself for ever wondering what 
Hetty Gunn thought of him ; whether she were 
beginning to lose any of her old prejudice 
against him ; and whether, after this seaside idyl 
weie over, he should ever see her again. The 
more he pondered, the less he could solve the 
question. No wonder. The simple truth was 
that Hetty was not thinking about him at all. 
She had accepted the whole situation with 
frankness and good sense : she found him kind, 
helpful, cheery, and entertaining ; the embarrass¬ 
ments she had feared, did not arise, and she was 
very glad of it. She often said to herself: 
“The doctor is very sensible. He does not 
show any foolish feeling of resentment; ” and she 
felt a sincere and increasing gratitude to him, 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


93 


because Sally and her child were fast regaining 
health under his care. But, beyond this, Hetty 
did not occupy her thoughts with Dr. Eben. It 
had never been her way to think about men, 
as most women think about them: good com¬ 
radeship seemed to be all that she was capable 
of towards a man. Dr. Eben said this to himself 
hundreds of times each day ; and then hundreds 
of other times each day, as he watched the 
looks which she bent on the baby in her arms, 
he knew that he had said what was not true ; that 
there must be unstirred depths in her nature, 
which only the great forces of love could move. 
All this time Dr. Eben fancied that he was 
simply analyzing Hetty as a psychological study. 
He would have admitted frankly to any one, that 
she interested him more than any woman he 
had ever seen, puzzled him more, occupied his 
thoughts more ; but that he could be in love with 
this rather eccentric middle-aged woman, beau¬ 
tiful though she was, Dr. Eben would have 
warmly denied. His ideal maiden, the woman 
whom he had been for ten years confidently 
expecting some day to find, woo, and win, was 
quite unlike Hetty; unlike even what Hetty 
must have been in her youth: she was to be 
slender and graceful; gentle as a dove ; vivacious, 



94 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


but in no wise opinionated, gracious and suave 
and versed in all elegancies ; cultured too, and of 
a rare, fine wit: so easy is it for the heart to 
garnish its unfilled chambers, and picture forth the 
sort of guest it will choose to entertain. Mean¬ 
while, by doors which the heart knows not of, 
quietly enters a guest of quite different pres¬ 
ence, takes up abode, is lodged and fed by 
angels, till grown a very monarch in possession 
and control, it suddenly surprises the heart into 
an absolute and unconditional allegiance ; and 
this is like what the apostle meant, when he 
said,— 

“The kingdom of God cometh not by ob¬ 
servation.” 

When Hetty said to Dr. Eben, one night, “ I 
really think we must go home. Sally seems 
perfectly well, and baby too: do you not think 
it will be quite safe to take them back?” he 
gave an actual start, and colored. Professionally, 
Dr. Eben was more ashamed of himself in that 
instant than he had ever been in his life. He 
Itad absolutely forgotten, for many days, that it 
was in the capacity of a physician that he was 
living on this shore of the sea. They had been 
at “ The Runs ” now two months ; and, except in 
his weekly visits to Lonway Corners, he had 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


95 


hardly recollected that he was a physician at 
all. The sea and the wind had been Sally’s real 
physicians, and the baby’s ; and as for the other 
two, in the happy quartette, had they needed 
a physician ? Perhaps; but no physician was 
there for them. 

“ Certainly! certainly! ” he stammered, “ it will 
be safeand his face grew redder and redder, 
as he spoke- Hetty looked at him in honest 
amazement. She could put but one interpreta¬ 
tion on his manner. 

“ Why, there is no need of our going yet, if it 
isn’t best. Don’t look so ! Sally can stay here 
all summer if it will do her good.” 

“You misunderstood me, Miss Gunn,” said 
the doctor, now himself again. “ It will really 
be perfectly safe for Mrs. Little to go home. 
She is entirely well.” 

“What did you mean then?” said Hetty, 
looking him straight in the eye with honest 
perplexity in her face. “You looked as if you 
didn’t think it best to go.” 

“ No, Miss Gunn,” replied Dr. Eben. “ I 
looked as if I did not want to go. It has been 
so pleasant here : that was all.” 

“Oh,” said Hetty, in a relieved tone, “was 
that it ? I feel just so, too: it has been de' 



9 6 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


lightful; it is the only real play-spell I ever had 
in my life. But for all that I ’m really impatient 
to get home : they need me on the farm ; the 
men have not been doing just as they ought to. 
Jim Little is all right when I ’m there ; but they 
take advantage of him when I’m away. I really 
must get home before haying. I think we must 
certainly go some day next week.” 

Dr. Eben was just going over to town for the 
letters. As he walked slowly down to the beach, 
he said to himself : 

“Haying! By Jove!” and this was pretty 
much all he thought during the whole of the 
hour that he spent in rowing to and from the 
Safe Haven wharf. “ Haying! ” he ejaculated 
again, and again. “ What a woman that is! I 
believe if we were all dead, she’d have just as 
keen an eye to that haying ! ” 

By “ we all ” in that sentence of his soliloquy, 
Dr. Eben really meant “ I.” He was beginning 
to be half aware of a personal unhappiness, be¬ 
cause Hetty showed no more consciousness of 
his existence. Her few words this morning 
about returning home had produced startling 
results in his mind ; like those a chemist some¬ 
times sees in his crucible, when, on throwing 
in a single drop of some powerful agent, he dis- 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 9 ; 


covers by its instantaneous and infallible test, 
the presence of things he had not suspected were 
there. Dr. Eben Williams clenched his hands 
as he paced up and down the beach. He did 
not wish to love Hetty Gunn. He did not 
approve of loving Hetty Gunn ; but love her he 
did with the whole strength of his soul. In this 
one brief hour, he had become aware of it. What 
would be its result, in vain he tried to conjecture. 
One moment, he said to himself that it was not 
in Hetty’s nature to love any man ; the next 
moment, with a lover’s inconsistency, he re¬ 
proached himself for a thought so unjust to her : 
one moment, he rated himself soundly for his 
weakness, and told himself sternly that it was 
plain Hetty cared no more for him than she did 
for one of her farm laborers ; the next moment, 
he fell into reverie full of a vague and hopeful 
recalling of all the kind and familiar things she 
had ever done or said. The sum and substance 
of his meditations was, however, that nothing 
should lead him to commit the folly of asking 
Hetty to marry him, unless her present manner 
toward him changed. 

“ I dare say she would laugh in my face,” 
thought he; “I don’t know but that she would in 
any man’s face who should ask her,” and, armed 
7 



98 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


and panoplied in this resolution, Dr. Eben 
walked up to the spot where Hetty sat under 
one of the old Balm of Gilead trees sewing, with 
the baby in its cradle at her feet. It was still 
early morning: the Safe Haven spires shone in 
the sun, and the little fishing schooners were 
racing out to sea before the wind. This was 
one of the prettiest sights from the beach at 
“The Runs.” Every morning scores of little 
fishing vessels came down the river, shot past 
like arrows, and disappeared beyond the bar. 
At night they came home again slowly; some¬ 
times with their sails cross-set, which made 
them look like great white butterflies skimming 
the water. Hetty never wearied of watching 
them: still pictures never wholly pleased her. 
The things in nature which had motion, evident 
aim, purpose, arrested her eye, and gave her 
delight. 

“ I haven’t learned to sail a boat yet, after all,” 
she said regretfully, as the doctor came up. 
“ Only see how lovely they are. I wish I could 
buy this whole place, and carry it home. I think 
we will all come here again next summer.” 

“ Not all,” said Dr. Eben ; " I shall not be 
here with you.” 

“ No, I hope not,” replied Hetty, unconsciously, 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


99 


Dr. Eben laughed outright: her tone was so 
unaffectedly honest. 

“ Oh, you know what I mean,” exclaimed Hetty, 
41 1 mean, I hope Sally will not have to bring you 
as a ph)sician. Of course, there is nothing to 
hinder your coming here at any time, if you 
like,” she added, in a kindly but indifferent tone. 

“ But I should not want to come alone,” said 
the doctor. 

“ No,” said Hetty, reflectively. “It would be 
dull, I shouldn’t like it myself, to be here all 
alone. The sea is the loneliest of things in the 
universe, I think. The fields and the woods and 
the hills all look as if they had good fellowship 
with each other perpetually; but the great, 
blank, bare sea, looks for ever alone ; and some¬ 
times the waves seem to me to run up on the 
shore as fiercely as starved wolves leaping on 
prey! ” 

“ Not on this little comfortable beach, though,” 
said Dr. Eben. 

“ Oh, no! ” replied Hetty, “ I did not mean such 
sea-shore as this. But even here, I should find 
it sad if I were alone.” 

“ All places are sad if one is alone, Miss 
Gunn,” replied the doctor, in a pensive tone, 
rare with him. 



IOO HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


Hetty turned a surprised glance at him, and 
did not speak for a moment. Then she said: 

“Yes; but nobody need be alone: there are 
always plenty of people to take into one’s house. 
If you are lonely, why don’t you get somebody 
to live with you, or you might be married,” she 
added, in as purely matter-of-fact a tone, as she 
would have said, “you might take a jour¬ 
ney,” or “you might build on a wing to your 
house.” 

This suggestion sounded oddly enough, com 
ing so soon from the lips of the woman whom 
the doctor had just been ardently wishing he 
could marry; but its cool and unembarrassed 
tone was sufficient to corroborate his utmost 
disheartenment. 

“ Ah ! ” he thought, “ I knew she didn’t care 
any thing for mel” and he fell into a silent 
brown study which Hetty did not attempt to 
break. This was one among her many charms 
to Dr. Eben, that she was capable of sitting 
quietly by a person’s side for long intervals of 
silence. The average woman, when she is in 
the company of even a single person, seems to 
consider herself derelict in duty, if conversation 
is not what she calls “ kept up; ” an instinctive 
phrase, which, by its universal use, is the bit* 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


IOI 


terest comment on its own significance. Men 
have no such feeling. Two men will sit by each 
other’s side, it may be for hours, in silence, and 
feel no derogation from good comradeship. Why 
should not women ? The answer is too evident. 
Women have a perpetual craving to be recog¬ 
nized, to be admired ; and a large part of their 
ceaseless chatter is no more nor less than a 
surface device to call your attention to them ; 
as little children continually pull your gown to 
make you look at them. Hetty was incapable of 
this. She was a vivacious talker when she had 
any thing to say; but a most dogged holder 
of her tongue when she had not. In this in¬ 
stance she had nothing to say, and she did not 
speak: the doctor had so much to say that 
he did not speak, and they sat in silence till the 
shrill bell from the farm-house door called them 
to dinner. As they walked slowly up to the 
house, the doctor said : 

“You don’t wonder that I hate to go away 
from this lovely place, do you, Miss Gunn ? ” 

Any other woman but Hetty would have felt 
something which was in his tone, though not in 
his words. But Hetty answered bluntly : 

“ Yes, I do wonder; it is very lovely here: but 
I should think you’d want to be at work ; I do. 




102 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


I think we ’ve had play-spell enough ; for, after 
all, it hasn’t been any thing but play-spell for you 
and me.” 

“Now she despises me,” thought poor Dr. 
Eben. “ She hasn’t any tolerance in her, any¬ 
how,” and he was grave and preoccupied all 
through dinner. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 103 


VII. 

TT was settled that they should set out for 
home a week from that day. “ Only seven 
days left,” said the doctor. “ What can I do in 
that time ? ” 

Never was man so baffled in attempts to woo. 
Hetty saw nothing, heard nothing, understood 
nothing; unwittingly she defeated every project 
he made for seeing her alone; unconsciously she 
chilled and dampened and arrested every impulse 
he had to speak to her, till Dr. Eben’s temper 
was tried as well as his love. Sally, the baby, 
the nurse, all three, were simply a wall of pro¬ 
tection around Hetty. Her eyes, her ears, her 
hands were full; and as for her heart and soul, 
they were walled about even better than her 
body. Nothing can be such a barrier to love’s 
approach as an honest nature’s honest uncon¬ 
sciousness. Dr. Eben was wellnigh beside him¬ 
self. The days flew by. He had done nothing, 
gained nothing. How be cursed his folly in hav- 



104 HFTTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


ing let two whole months slip away, before he 
found out that he loved this woman, whom now 
he could no more hope to impress in a few hours’ 
time than a late afternoon sun might think to 
melt an iceberg. 

“ It would take a man a lifetime to make her 
understand that he loved her,” groaned the doc¬ 
tor, “ and I’ve only got two days; ” and more 
than ever his anxiety deepened as he wondered 
whether, after they returned home, she would 
allow him to continue these friendly and familiar 
relations. This uncertainty led to a most unfor¬ 
tunate precipitation on his part. The night be¬ 
fore they were to go, he found Hetty at sunset 
sitting under the trees, and looking dreamily out 
to sea. Her attitude and her look were pensive. 
He had never seen such an expression on Het¬ 
ty’s face or figure, and it gave him a warmer 
yearning towards her than he had ever yet dared 
to let himself feel. It was just time for the 
lamp in the lighthouse to be lit, and Hetty was 
watching for it. As the doctor approached her, 
she said, “ I am waiting for the lighthouse light 
to flash out. I like so to see its first ray. It is 
like seeing a new planet made.” Dr. Eben sat 
down by her side, and they both waited in silence 
for the light. The whole western and southern 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 105 


sky glowed red; a high wind had been blowing 
all day, and the water was covered with foamy 
white caps ; the tall, slender obelisk of the light¬ 
house stood out black against the red sky, and 
the shining waves leaped up and broke about its 
base. But all was quiet in the sheltered curve 
of the beach on which Hetty and Dr. Eben were 
sitting: the low surf rose and fell as gently as 
if it had a tide of its own, which no storm could 
touch. Presently the bright light flashed from 
the tower, shone one moment on the water of the 
river’s mouth, then was gone. 

“ Now it is lighting the open sea,” said Hetty. 
In a few moments more the lantern had swung 
round, and again the bright rays streamed to¬ 
wards the beach, almost reaching the shore. 

“And now it is lighting us,” said Dr. Eben: 
“ I wish it were as easy to get light upon one’s 
path in life, as it is to hang a lantern in a tower.” 

Hetty laughed. 

“ Are you often puzzled ?" she asked lightly. 

“ No,” said the doctor, “ I never have been, 
but I am now.” 

“ What about ? ” asked Hetty, innocently: “ I 
don’t see what there is to puzzle you here.” 

“ You, Miss Gunn,” stoutly answered Dr. Eben, 
feeling as if he were taking a header into un 
fathomed waters. 



106 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ Me! ” exclaimed Hetty, in a tone of utmost 
surprise. “ Why, what do you mean ? ” 

Dr. Eben hesitated a single instant. He had 
not intended to do this thing, but the occasion 
had been too much for him. “ I may as well do 
it first as last,” he said ; “ she can but refuse me : ” 
and, in a very few manly words, Dr. Eben Wil¬ 
liams straightway asked Hetty Gunn to marry 
him. He was not prepared for what followed, 
although in a soliloquy, only a few days before, 
he had predicted it to himself. Hetty laughed 
merrily, unaffectedly, in his very face. 

“ Why, Dr. Williams ! ” she said, “ you can’t 
know what you’re saying. You can’t want to 
marry me: I’m not the sort of woman men want 
to marry ”— 

He interrupted her. His voice was husky 
with deep feeling. 

“ Miss Gunn,” he said, “ I implore you not to 
speak in this way. I do know what I am saying, 
and I do love you with all my heart.” 

“Nonsense,” answered Hetty in the kindliest 
of tones; “ of course you think you do: but it 
is only because you have been shut up here two 
whole months, with nothing else to do but fancy 
that you were in love. I told you it was time 
we went home. Don’t say any thing more about 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. IO/ 


it. I ’ll promise you to forget it all,” and Hetty 
laughed again, a merry little laugh. A sharp 
suspicion crossed the doctor’s mind that she 
was coquetting with him. In a constrained tone 
he said: 

“ Miss Gunn, do you really wish me to under 
stand that you reject me ? ” 

“ Not at all,” said Hetty, gayly. “ I wish you 
to understand that I haven’t permitted you to 
offer yourself. I have simply assured you that 
you are mistaken: you ’ll see it for yourself as 
soon as we get home. Do you suppose I 
shouldn’t know if you were really in love with 
me?” 

“ I didn’t know it myself till a week ago,” re¬ 
plied Dr. Eben : “ I did not understand myself. 
I never loved any woman before.” 

“ And no man ever asked me to marry him 
before,” answered the honest Hetty, like a child, 
and with an amused tone in her voice. “ It is 
very odd, isn’t it ?” 

Dr. Eben was confounded. In spite of himself, 
he felt the contagion of Hetty’s merry and un¬ 
sentimental view of the situation ; and it was with 
a trace of obstinacy rather than of a lover’s pain 
in his tones that he continued: 

“ But, Miss Gunn, indeed you must not make 



108 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


light of this matter in this way. It is not treat¬ 
ing me fairly. With all the love of a man’s 
heart I love you, and have asked you to be my 
wife: are you sure that you could not love 
me?” 

“I don’t really think I could,” said Hetty, 
“ but I shall not try, because I am sure you are 
mistaken. I am too old to be married, for one 
thing : I shall be thirty-seven in the fall. That’s 
reason enough, if there were no other. A man 
can’t fall in love with a woman after she’s as old 
as that.” 

Dr. Eben laughed outright. He could not 
help it. 

“ There! ” said Hetty, triumphantly ; “ that’s 
right; I like to hear you laugh now ; for good¬ 
ness’ sake, let’s forget all this. I will, if you will; 
and we will be all the better friends for it per¬ 
haps. At any rate, you ’ll be all the more friend 
to me for having saved you from making such a 
blunder as thinking you were in love with me.” 

Dr. Eben was on the point of persisting 
farther ; but he suddenly thought to himself: 

“ I’d better not: I might make her angry. 
I ’ll take the friendship platform for the present: 
that is some gain.” 

“ You will permit me then to be your friend, 
Miss Gunn,” he said. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 109 


“ Why, certainly,” said Hetty, in a matter-of- 
fact way: “ I thought we were very good friends 
now.” 

“But you recollect, you distinctly told me 
I was to come only as physician to Mrs. Little,” 
retorted the doctor. 

Hetty colored : the darkness sheltered her. 

“ Oh ! that was a long time ago,” she said in a 
remorseful tone: “ I should be very ungrateful 
if I had not forgotten that.” 

And with this Dr. Eben was forced to be con 
tented. When he thought the whole thing over, 
he admitted to himself that he had fared as well 
as he had a right to expect, and that he had 
gained a very sure vantage, in having committed 
the loyal Hetty to the assertion that they were 
friends. He half dreaded to see her the next 
morning, lest there should be some change, some 
constraint in her manner ; not a shade of it. 
He could have almost doubted his own recol¬ 
lections of the evening before, if such a thing 
had been possible, so absolutely unaltered was 
Hetty’s treatment of him. She had been abso¬ 
lutely honest in all she said: she did honestly 
believe that his fancied love for her was a senti¬ 
mental mistake, a caprice born of idleness and 
lack of occupation, and she did honestly intend 



IIO HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


to forget the whole thing, and to make him 
forget it. And so they went back to the farm, 
where the summer awaited them with overflow¬ 
ing harvests of every thing, and Hetty’s hands 
were so full that very soon she had almost ceased 
to recollect the life at “The Runs.” Sally and 
the baby were strong and well. The whole 
family seemed newly glad and full of life. All 
odd hours they could snatch from work, Old 
Caesar and Nan roamed about in the sun, follow¬ 
ing the baby, as his nurse carried him in her 
arms. He had been christened Abraham Gunn 
Little; poor James Little having persistently 
refused to let his own name be given to the 
child, and Hetty having been cordially willing to 
give her father’s. To speak to a baby as Abra¬ 
ham was manifestly impossible, and the little 
fellow was called simply “ Baby ” month after 
month, until, one day, one of Norah’s toddlers, 
who could not speak plain, hit upon a nick¬ 
name so fortunate that it was at once adopted 
by everybody. “ Rabylittle Mike called him, 
by some original process of compounding “Abra¬ 
ham ” and “ Baby ; ” and “ Raby ” he was from 
that day out. He was a beautiful child: his 
mother’s blue eyes, his father’s dark hair, and a 
skin like a ripe peach, but not over fair, — made 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


Ill 


a combination of color which was rarely lovely. 
He was a joyous child, as joyous as if no shadow 
had ever rested on his mother’s heart. Sally 
watched him day by day with delight ; but the 
delight was never wholly free from pain : the 
wound she had received, the wound she had in¬ 
flicted on herself, could never wholly heal. A 
deep, moral hurt must for ever leave its trace, as 
surely as a deep wound in a man’s flesh must leave 
its scar. It is of no use for us to think to evade 
this law; neither is it a law wholly of retribution. 
The scar on the flesh is token of nature’s process 
of healing: so is the scar of a perpetual sorrow, 
which is left on a soul which has sinned and re¬ 
pented. Sally and Jim were leading healthful 
and good lives now; and each day brought them 
joys and satisfactions: but their souls were 
scarred ; the fulness of joy which might have 
been theirs they could never taste. And the 
loss fell where it could never be overlooked for 
a moment, — on their joy in their child. In 
the very holiest of holies, in the temple of the 
mother’s heart, stood for ever a veiled shape, mak¬ 
ing ceaseless sin-offering for the past. 

As the winter set in, an anxiety fell on the 
family which had passed so sunny a summer. 
With the first sharp cold winds, little Raby de* 



112 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


veloped a tendency to croup. Neither Sally nor 
Hetty had ever seen a case of this terrible and 
alarming disease; and, in Raby’s first attack of it, 
they had both thought the child dying. Now was 
Doctor Eben brought again into close and inti¬ 
mate relations with Hetty. During the months of 
the summer, he had, in spite of all his efforts, in 
spite of his frequent visits to her house, in spite 
of all Hetty’s frank cordiality of manner, felt 
himself slowly slipping away from the vantage- 
ground he hoped he had gained with her. This 
was the result of two things, — one which he 
knew, and one which he did not dream of: the 
cause which he knew, was a very simple and 
evident one, Hetty’s constant preoccupation. 
Hetty was a very busy woman : what with Raby 
the farm, the house, her social relations with the 
whole village, she had never a moment of lei¬ 
sure. Often when Dr. Eben came to the house, 
he found her away; and often when he found 
her at home, she was called away before he 
had talked with her half an hour. The other 
reason, which, if Dr. Eben had only known it, 
would have more than comforted him for all he 
felt he had lost on the surface, was that Hetty, in 
the bottom of her heart, was slowly growing con¬ 
scious that she cared a great deal about him. 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


3 


No woman, whatever she may say and honestl> 
mean, can entirely dismiss from her thoughts 
the memory of the words in which a man has 
told her he loves her. Especially is this true 
when those words are the first words of love 
which have ever been spoken to her. Morning 
and night, as Hetty came and went, in her brisk 
cheery way, in and out of the house and about 
the farm, she wore a new look on her face. The 
words, “I love you with all my heart,” haunted 
her. She did not believe them any more now 
than before; but they had a very sweet sound. 
She was no nearer now than then to any im¬ 
pulse to take Dr. Williams at his word: nothing 
could be deeper implanted in a soul than the con¬ 
viction was in Hetty’s that no man was likely 
to love her. But she was no longer so sure that 
she herself could not love. Vague and wistful 
reveries began to interrupt her activity. She 
would stand sometimes, with her arms folded, 
leaning on a stile, and idly watching her men at 
work, till they wondered what had happened to 
their mistress. She lost a little of the color from 
her cheeks, and the full moulded lines of her 
chin grew sharper. 

“Faith, an’ Miss Hetty’s goin’ off, sooner’n 
she’s any right to,” said Mike to Norah one day 
S 



114 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ What puts such a notion in your head thin, 
Mike?” retorted Norah, “sure she’s as foine a 
crayther as’s in all the county, an’ foiner too.” 

“ Foine enough, but I say for all that that 
she’s a goin’ off in her looks mighty fast,” replied 
the keen-eyed Mike. “You don’t think she’d be 
a pinin’ for anybody, do you ? ” 

Norah gave a hearty Irish laugh. 

“ Miss Hetty a pinin’! ” she repeated over and 
over with bursts of merriment: 

“Ah, but yez are all alike, ye men. Miss 
Hetty a pinin’ ! I’d like to see the man Miss 
Hetty wud pine fur.” 

Mike and Norah were both right. There was 
no “pining” in Hetty’s busy and sensible soul; 
but there had been planted in it a germ of new 
life, whose slow quickening and growth were 
perplexing and disturbing elements : not as yet 
did she recognize them; she only felt the dis¬ 
turbance, and its link with Dr. Eben was suffi¬ 
ciently clear to make her manner to him undergo 
an indefinable change. It was no less cordial, no 
less frank: you could not have said where the 
change was ; but it was there, and he felt it. He 
ought to have understood it and taken heart. 
But he was ignorant like Hetty, only felt the 
disturbance, and taking counsel of his fears be- 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


115 


lieved that things were going wrong. Sometimes 
he would stay away for many days, and then 
watch closely Hetty’s manner when they met. 
Never a trace of resentment or even wonder at 
his absence. Sometimes he would go there daily 
for an interval; never a trace of expectation or 
of added familiarity. But now things were 
changed. Little Raby’s illness seemed to put 
them all back where they were during the days 
of the sea-side idyl. Now the doctor felt him¬ 
self again needed. Both Hetty and Sally lived 
upon his words, even his looks. Again and again 
die child’s life seemed hanging in even balances, 
and it was with a gratitude almost like that they 
felt to God that the two women blessed Dr. 
Eben for his recovery. Night after night, the 
three watched by the baby’s bed, listening to his 
shrill and convulsive breathings. 

Morning after morning, Dr. Eben and Hetty 
went together out of the chamber, and stood in 
the open door-way, watching the crimson dawn 
on the eastern hills. At such times, the doctor 
felt so near Hetty that he was repeatedly on the 
point of saying again the words of love he had 
spoken six months before. But a great fear de¬ 
terred him. 

“ If she refuses me once more, that would set- 



II6 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


tie it for ever,” he said to himself, and forced the 
words back. 

One morning after a night of great anxiety 
and fear, they left Sally’s room while it was yet 
dark. It was bitterly cold; the winter stars 
shone keen and glittering in the bleak sky. Hetty 
threw on a heavy cloak, and opening the hall- 
door, said: 

“ Let us go out into the cold air; it will do us 
good.” 

Silently they walked up and down the piazza. 
The great pines were weighed down to the 
ground by masses of snow. Now and then, 
when the wind stirred the upper branches, ava¬ 
lanches slid noiselessly off, and built themselves 
again into banks below. There was no moon, 
but the starlight was so brilliant that the snow 
crystals glistened in it. As they looked at the 
sky, a star suddenly fell. It moved very slowly, 
and was more than a minute in full sight. 

“ One light-house less,” said Dr. Eben. 

“ Oh,” exclaimed Hetty, “ what a lovely idea ! 
who said that ? Who called the stars light¬ 
houses ? ” 

“ I forget,” said the doctor; “ in fact I think 
I never knew; I think it was an anonymous lit¬ 
tle poem in which I saw the idea, years ago. It 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


ii; 


struck me at the time as being a singularly 
happy one. I think I can repeat a stanza or two 
of it.” 


GOD’S LIGHT-HOUSES. 

When night falls on the earth, the sea 
From east to west lies twinkling bright 
With shining beams from beacons high, 
Which send afar their friendly light. 

The sailors’ eyes, like eyes in prayer, 

Turn unto them for guiding ray: 

If storms obscure their radiance, 

The great ships helpless grope their way. 

When night falls on the earth, the sky 
Looks like a wide, a boundless main , 

Who knows what voyagers sail there ? 

Who names the ports they seek and gain ? 

Are not the stars like beacons set, 

To guide the argosies that go 
From universe to universe, 

Our little world above, below ? 

On their great errands solemn bent, 

In their vast journeys unaware 
Of our small planet’s name or place 
Revolving in the lower air. 

Oh thought too vast! oh thought too glad : 

An awe most rapturous it stirs. 

From world to world God’s beacons shine: 
God means to save his mariners ! 



118 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


Hetty was silent. The mention of light-houses 
had carried her thoughts back to that last night 
at “ The Runs/’ when, with Dr. Eben by her 
side, she had watched the great revolving light 
in the stone tower on the bar. 

Dr. Eben was thinking of the same thing; he 
wondered if Hetty were not: after a few mo¬ 
ments’ silence, he became so sure of it that he 
said: 

“You have not forgotten that night, have 
you ? ” 

“ Oh, no ! ” replied Hetty, in a low voice. 

“ I should like to think that you did not wish 
to forget it,” said the doctor, in a tender tone. 

“ Oh, don’t, please don’t say any thing about it,” 
exclaimed Hetty, in a tone so full of emotion, 
that Dr. Eben’s heart gave a bound of joy. In 
that second, he believed that the time would 
come when Hetty would love him. He had 
never heard such a tone from her lips before. 
Her hand rested on his arm. He laid his upon 
it, — the'first caressing touch he had ever dared 
to offer to Hetty ; the first caressing touch which 
Hetty had ever received from hand of man. 

“ I will not, Hetty, till you are willing I should,” 
he said. He had never called her “ Hetty ” be¬ 
fore. A tumult filled Hetty’s heart; but all she 
said was, in a most matter-of-fact tone : 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 119 


“ That’s right! we must go in now. It is too 
cold out here.” 

Dr. Eben did not care what her words were : 
nature had revealed herself in a tone. 

“ I ’ll make her love me yet,” he thought. “ It 
won’t take a great while either ; she’s beginning, 
and she doesn’t know it.” He was so happy 
that he did not know at first that Hetty had left 
him alone in front of the fire. When he found 
she had gone, he drew up a big arm-chair, sank 
back in its depths, put his feet on the fender, 
and fell to thinking how, by spring, perhaps, he 
might marry Hetty. In the midst of this lover¬ 
like reverie, he fell asleep in the most unlover-like 
way. He was worn out with his long night’s 
watching. In a few minutes, Hetty came back 
with hot broth which she had prepared for him. 
Her light step did not rouse him. She stood 
still by his chair, looking down on his face. His 
clear-cut features, always handsome, were grand 
in sleep. The solemnity of closed eyes adds to 
a noble face something which is always very im¬ 
pressive. He stirred uneasily, and said in his 
sleep, “ Hetty.” A great wave of passionate 
feeling swept over her face, as, standing there, 
she heard this tender sound of her name on his 
unconscious lips. 



120 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ Oh what will become of me if I love him 
after all,” she thought. 

“ Why not, why not ? ” answered her heart; 
wakened now and struggling for its craved and 
needed rights. “ Why not, why not ? ” and no 
answer came to Hetty’s mind. 

Moving noiselessly, she set the broth on a 
low table by the doctor’s side, covered him 
carefully with her own heavy cloak, and left 
the room. On the threshold, she turned back 
and looked again at his face. Her conscious 
thoughts were more than she could bear. In 
sudden impatience with herself, she exclaimed, 
“ Pshaw ! how silly I am !” and hastened up¬ 
stairs, more like the old original Hetty than 
she had been for many days. Love could not 
enthrone himself easily in Hetty’s nature: it 
was a rebellious kingdom. “ Thirty-seven years 
old! Hetty Gunn, you ’re a goose,” were 
Hetty’s last thoughts as she fell asleep that 
night. But when she awoke the next morning, 
the same refrain, “ Why not, why not ? ” filled 
her thoughts; and, when she bade Dr. Eben 
good-morning, the rosy color that mounted to 
her very temples gave him a new happiness. 

Why prolong the story of the next few days ? 
They were just such days as every man and 




HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


121 


every woman who has loved has lived through, 
and knows far better than can be said or sung. 
Love’s beginnings are varied, and his final crises 
of avowal take individual shape in each individ¬ 
ual instance : but his processes and symptoms 
of growth are alike in all cases; the indefinable 
delight, — the dreamy wondering joy, — the half 
avoidance which really means seeking, — the 
seeking which shelters itself under endless 
pleas, — the ceaseless questioning of faces, — 
the mute caresses of looks, and the eloquent 
caresses of tones, — are they not written in the 
books of the chronicles of all lovers ? What 
matter how or when the crowning moment of 
full surrender comes? It came to Eben and 
Hetty, however, more suddenly at last than it 
often comes ; came in a way so characteristic of 
them both, that perhaps to tell it may not be a 
sin, since we aim at a complete setting forth of 
their characters. 



122 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


VIII. 

CpOR three days little Raby had been so ill 
that the doctor had not left the house day 
nor night, except for imperative calls from othei 
patients. Each night the paroxysms of croup re¬ 
turned with great severity, and the little fellow’s 
strength seemed fast giving way under them. 
Sally and Hetty, his two mothers, were very 
differently affected by the grief they bore in 
common. Sally was speechless, calm, almost 
dogged in her silence. When Dr. Eben trying 
to comfort her, said: 

“ Don’t feel so, Mrs. Little: I think we shall 
pull the boy through all right.” She looked up 
in his face, and shook her head, speaking no 
word. “ I am not saying it merely to comfort 
you; indeed, I am not, Mrs. Little,” said the 
doctor. “ I really believe he will get well. These 
attacks of croup seem much worse than they 
really are.” 

“ I don’t know that it comforts me,” replied 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 123 


Sally, speaking very slowly. “ I don’t know that 
I want him to live; but I think perhaps he might 
be allowed to die easier, if I didn’t need so much 
punishing. It is worse than death to see him 
suffer so.” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Little ! how can you think thus of 
God ? ” exclaimed the doctor. “ He never treats 
us like that, any more than you could Raby.” 

“ The minister at the Corners said so,” moaned 
Sally. “ He said it was till the third and fourth 
generations.” 

At such moments, Dr. Eben, in his heart, 
thought undevoutly of ministers. “A bruised 
reed, he will not break,” came to his mind, often 
as he looked at this anguish-stricken woman, 
watching her only child’s suffering, and morbidly 
believing that it was the direct result of her own 
sin. But Dr. Eben found little time to spare for 
his ministrations to Sally, when Hetty was in 
such distress. He had never seen any thing 
like it. She paced the house like a wounded lion¬ 
ess. She could not bear to stay in the room : all 
day, all night, she walked, walked, walked; now 
in the hall outside his door ; now in the rooms 
below. Every few moments, she questioned 
the doctor fiercely : “ Is he no better ? ” “ Will 

he have another?” “ Can’t you do something 




124 HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


more ? ” “ Do you think there is a possibility 

that any other doctor might know something you 
do not ? ” “ Shan’t I send Caesar over to Spring- 
ton for Dr. Wilkes; he might think of some¬ 
thing different ? ” These, and a thousand other 
such questions, Hetty put to the harassed and tor¬ 
tured Dr. Eben, over and over, till even his loving 
patience was wellnigh outworn. It was strength¬ 
ened, however, by his anxiety for her. She did 
not eat; she did not drink; she looked haggard 
and feverish. This child had been to her from 
the day of his birth like her own : she loved him 
with all the pent-up forces of the great woman¬ 
hood within her, which thus far had not found 
the natural outlet of its affections. 

“Doctor,” she would cry vehemently, “why 
should Raby die ? God never means that any 
children should die. It is all our ignorance and 
carelessness ; all the result of broken law. I’ve 
heard you say a hundred times, that it is a 
thwarting of God’s plan whenever a child dies : 
why don’t you cure Raby ? ” 

“ That is all true, Hetty,” Dr. Eben would re¬ 
ply ; “ all very true: it is a thwarting of God’s 
plan whenever any human being dies before he 
is fully ripe of old age. But the accumulated 
weight of generations of broken law is on our 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 125 


heads. Raby’s little life has been all well or¬ 
dered, so far as we can see; but, farther back, 
was something wrong or he would not be ill to¬ 
day. I have done my best to learn, in my little 
life, all that is known of methods of cure; but 
I have only the records of human ignorance to 
learn from, and I must fail again and again.” 

At last, on the fourth night, Raby slept: slept 
for hours, quietly, naturally, and with a gentle 
dew on his fair forehead. The doctor sat mo¬ 
tionless by his bed and watched him. Sally, 
exhausted by the long watch, had fallen asleep 
on a lounge. The sound of Hetty’s restless 
steps, in the hall outside, had ceased for some 
time. The doctor sat wondering uneasily where 
she had gone. She had not entered the room for 
more than an hour; the house grew stiller and 
stiller; not a sound was to be heard except little 
Raby’s heavy breathing, and now and then one 
of those fine and mysterious noises which the 
timbers of old houses have a habit of mak¬ 
ing in the night-time. At last the lover got the 
better of the physician. Doctor Eben rose, and, 
stealing softly to the door, opened it as cau¬ 
tiously as a thief. All was dark. 

“ Hetty,” he whispered. No answer. He 
looked back at Raby. The child was sleeping 




126 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


so soundly it seemed impossible that he could 
wake for some time. Doctor Eben groped his 
way to the head of the great stairway, and 
listened again. All was still. 

“ Hetty! ” he called in a low voice, “ Hetty! ” 
No answer. 

“ She must have fallen asleep somewhere. 
She will surely take cold,” the doctor said to 
himself ; persuading his conscience that it was 
his duty to go and find her. Slowly feeling his 
way, he crept down the staircase. On the last 
step but one, he suddenly stumbled, fell, and 
barely recovered himself by his firm hold of the 
banisters, in time to hear Hetty’s voice in a low 
imperious whisper: 

“ Good heavens, doctor ! what do you want ? ” 

“ Oh Hetty ! did I hurt you ? ” he exclaimed ; 
“ I never dreamed of your being on the stairs.” 

“ I sat down a minute to listen. It was all so 
still in the room, I was frightened ; and I must 
have been asleep a good while, I think, I am so 
cold,” answered Hetty ; her teeth beginning to 
chatter, and her whole body shaking with cold. 
‘‘ Why, how dark it is ! ” she continued; “ the 
hall lamp has gone out: let me get a match.” 

But Dr. Eben had her two cold hands in his. 
“ No, Hetty,” he said, “come right back into the 



H ETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 127 


room: Raby is so sound asleep it will not 
wake him ; and Sally is asleep too ; ” and he 
led her slowly towards the door. The night- 
lamp was burning low ; its pale flame, and the 
flickering blaze of the big hickory logs on the 
hearth, made a glimmering twilight, whose fan¬ 
tastic lights and shadows shot out through the 
door-way into the gloom of the hall. As the 
first of these lights fell on Hetty’s face, Dr. 
Eben started to see how white it was. Involun¬ 
tarily he put his arm around her; and exclaimed 
“ How pale you are, my poor Hetty! you are 
all worn out; ” and, half supporting her with his 
arm, he laid his free hand gently on her hair. 

Hetty was very tired; very cold ; half asleep, 
and half frightened. She dropped her head on 
his shoulder for a second, and said : “ Oh, what 
a comfort you are ! ” 

The words had hardly left her lips when Doc¬ 
tor Eben threw both his arms around her, and 
held her tightly to his breast, whispering: 

“ Indeed, I will be a comfort to you, Hetty, if 
you will only let me.” 

Hetty struggled and began to speak. 

“ Hush! you will wake Raby,” he said, and 
still held her firmly, looking unpityingly down 
into her face. 



128 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ You do love me, Hetty,” he whispered tri¬ 
umphantly. 

The front stick on the fire broke, fell in two 
blazing upright brands to right and left, and 
cast a sudden flood of light on the two fig¬ 
ures in the door-way. Sally and Raby slept 
on. Still Doctor Eben held Hetty close, and 
looked with a keen and exultant gaze into her 
eyes. 

“ It isn’t fair when I am so cold and sleepy,” 
whispered Hetty, with a half twinkle in her half¬ 
open eyes. 

“ It is fair ! It is fair ! Any thing is fair ! 
Every thing is fair,” exclaimed the doctor in a 
whisper which seemed to ring like a shout, and 
he kissed Hetty again and again. Still Sally and 
Raby slept on: the hickory fire leaped up as in 
joy ; and a sudden wind shook the windows. 

Hetty struggled once more to free herself, 
but the arms were like arms of oak. 

“ Say that you love me, Hetty,” pleaded the 
doctor. 

“ When you let me go, perhaps I will,” whis¬ 
pered Hetty. 

Instantly the arms fell; and the doctor stood 
opposite her in the door-way, his head bent for¬ 
ward and his eyes fixed on her face. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 129 


Hetty cast her eyes down. Words did not 
come. It would have been easier to have said 
them while she was held close to Doctor Eben’s 
side. Suddenly, before he had a suspicion of 
what she was about to do, she had darted away, 
was lost in the darkness, and in a second more 
he heard her door shut at the farther end of the 
hall. 

Dr. Eben laughed a low and pleasant laugh. 
“ She might as well have said it,” he thought: 
“ she will say it to-morrow. I have won ! ” and 
he sank into the great white dimity-covered 
chair, at the head of Raby’s bed, and looked into 
the fire. The very coals seemed to marshal 
themselves into shapes befitting his triumph : 
castles rose and fell; faces grew, smiled, and 
faded away smiling ; roses and lilies and palms 
glowed ruby red, turned to silver, and paled into 
spiritual gray. The silence of the night seemed 
resonant with a very symphony of joy. Still 
Sally and Raby slept on. The boy’s sweet face 
took each hour a more healthful tint; and, as 
Doctor Eben watched the blessed change, he 
said to himself: 

“ What a night! what a night! Two lives 
saved! Raby’s and mine.” As the mormcg 
drew near, he threw up the shades of the east- 
9 



130 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


ern window, and watched for the dawn. “ I will 
see this day’s sun rise,” he said with a thrill of 
devout emotion; and he watched the horizon 
while it changed like a great flower calyx from 
gray to pearly yellow, from yellow to pale green, 
and at last, when it could hold back the day 
no longer, to a vast rose red with a golden sun 
in its centre. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 131 


IX. 

r I 'HAT morning’s light could have fallen on 
no happier house, the world over, than 

Gunn’s.” A little child brought back to life, 
out of the gates of death ; two hearts entering 
anew on life, through the gates of love ; half a 
score of hearts, each glad in the gladness of each 
other, and in the gladness of all, — what a morn¬ 
ing it was ! 

Doctor Eben and Hetty met at the head of 
the stairs. 

“ Oh, Hetty ! ” exclaimed the doctor. 

“ Well ? ” said Hetty, in a half-defiant tone, 
without looking up. He came nearer, and was 
about to kiss her. 

She darted back, and lifting her eyes gave 
him a glance of such mingled love and reproof 
that he was bewildered. 

“ Why, Hetty, surely I may kiss you ? ” he 
exclaimed. 

“ I was asleep last night,” she answered gravely, 



132 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“and you did very wrong,” and without another 
word or look she passed on. 

Doctor Eben was thoroughly angry. 

“ What does she mean ? ” he said to himself. 
“ She needn’t think I am to be played with like 
a boy; ” and the doctor took his seat at the 
breakfast table, with a sterner countenance than 
Hetty had ever seen him wear. In a few mo¬ 
ments she began to cast timid and deprecating 
looks at him. His displeasure hurt her inde¬ 
scribably. She had not intended to offend or repel 
him. She did not know precisely what she had 
intended : in fact she had not intended any thing. 
If the doctor had understood more about love, 
he would have known that all manifestations in 
Hetty at this time were simply like the uncon¬ 
scious flutterings of a bird in the hand in which 
it is just about to nestle and rest. But he did 
not understand, and when Hetty, following him 
into the hall, stood shyly by his side, and looking 
up into his face said inquiringly, “ Doctor ? ” 
he answered her as she had answered him, a 
short time before, with the curt monosyllable, 
“ Well ? ” His tone was curter than his words. 
Hetty colored, and saying gently, “ No matter; 
nothing now,” turned away. Her whole move¬ 
ment was so significant of wounded feeling that 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 133 


it smote Doctor Eben’s heart. He sprang after 
her and laid his hand on her arm. “ Hetty,” he 
said, “ do tell me what it was you were going 
tc say; I did not mean to hurt your feelings : 
bu; I don’t know what to make of you.” 

“ Not—know—what—to—make—of —me ! ” 
repeated Hetty, very slowly, in a tone of the 
intensest astonishment. 

“You wouldn’t say you loved me,” replied the 
doctor, beginning to feel a little ashamed of him¬ 
self. 

Hetty’s eyes were fixed on his now, with no 
wavering in their gaze. She looked at him, as 
if her life lay in the balance of what she might 
read in his face. 

“Did you not know that I loved you before 
you asked me to say so ? ” she said with empha¬ 
sis. It was the doctor’s turn now to color. He 
answered evasively: 

“A man has no right to know that, Hetty, 
until a woman tells him so.” 

“ Did you not think that I loved you,” repeated 
Hetty, with the same emphasis, and a graver 
expression on her face. 

Dr. Eben hesitated. Already, he felt a sort of 
fear of the incalculable processes and changes in 
this woman’s mind. Would she be angry if he 




134 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


said, he had thought she loved him ? Would 
she be sure to recognize any equivocation, and 
be angrier at that ? 

“ Hetty,” he said, taking her hand in his, “ I 
did hope very strongly that you loved me, or 
else I should never have asked you to say so; 
but you ought to be willing to say so, if it be 
true. Think how many times I have said it to 
you.” 

Hetty’s eyes did not leave his: their expres¬ 
sion deepened until they seemed to darken and 
enlarge. She did not speak. 

“ Will you not say it now, Hetty ? ” urged the 
doctor. 

“ I can’t,” replied Hetty, and turned and walked 
slowly away. Presently she turned again, and 
walked swiftly back to him, and exclaimed: 

“What do you suppose is the reason it is so 
hard for me to say it ? ” 

Dr. Eben laughed. “ I can’t imagine, Hetty. 
The only thing that is hard for me, is not to keep 
saying it all the time.” 

Hetty smiled. 

“ There must be something wrong in me. I 
think I shall never say it. But I suppose ” — 
She hesitated, and her eyes twinkled. “ I sup¬ 
pose you might come to be very sure of it without 
my ever saying it ? ” 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


135 


“ I am sure of it now, you darling,” exclaimed 
the doctor; and threw both his arms around her, 
and this time Hetty did not struggle. 

When Welbury heard that Hetty Gunn was 
to marry Doctor Ebenezer Williams, there was a 
fine hubbub of talk. There was no half-way 
opinion in anybody’s mind on the question. 
Everybody was vehement, one way or the other. 
All Doctor Eben’s friends were hilarious; and 
the greater part of Hetty’s were gloomy. They 
said, he was marrying her for her money; that 
Hetty was too old, and too independent in all 
her ways, to be married at all; that they would 
be sure to fall out quickly; and a hundred other 
things equally meddlesome and silly. But no¬ 
body so disapproved of the match that he stayed 
away from the wedding, which was the largest 
and the gayest wedding Welbury had ever seen. 
It went sorely against the grain with Hetty to 
invite Mrs. Deacon Little, but Sally entreated 
for it so earnestly that she gave way. 

“ I think if she once sees me with Raby in my 
arms, may be she ’ll feel kinder,” said Sally. 
James Little had carried the beautiful boy, and 
laid him in his grandmother’s arms many times; 
but, although she showed great tenderness toward 
the child, she had never yet made any allusion 



136 HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


to Sally; and James, who had the same odd 
combination of weakness and tenacity which his 
mother had, had never broken the resolution 
which he had taken years ago: not to mention 
his wife’s name in his mother’s presence. Mrs. 
Little had almost as great a struggle with herself 
before accepting the invitation, as Hetty had had 
before giving it. Only her husband’s earnest re¬ 
monstrances decided her wavering will. 

'‘It’s only once, Mrs. Little,” he said, “and 
tnere ’ll be such a crowd there that very likely 
you won’t come near Sally at all. It don’t look 
right for you to stay away. You don’t know how 
much folks think of Sally now. She’s been 
asked to the minister’s to tea, she and James, 
with Hetty and the doctor, several times.” 

“ She hain’t, has she ? ” exclaimed Mrs. Little, 
quite thrown off her balance by this unexpected 
piece of news, which the wary deacon had been 
holding in reserve, as a good general holds his 
biggest guns, for some special occasion. “You 
don’t tell me so! Well, well, folks must do as 
they like. For my part, I call that downright 
countenancing of iniquity. And I don’t know 
how she could have the face to go, either. I 
must say, I have some curiosity to see how she 
behaves among folks.” 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY . 


137 


“ She’s as modest and pretty in her ways as 
ever a girl could be,” replied the deacon, who 
had learned during the past year to love his son’s 
wife; “ you won’t have any call to be ashamed of 
her. I can tell you that much beforehand.” 

When Mrs. Little’s eyes first fell upon her 
daughter-in-law, she gave an involuntary start. 
In the two years during which Mrs. Little had 
not seen her, Sally had changed from a timid, 
nervous, restless woman to a calm and dignified 
one. Very much of her old girlish beauty had 
returned to her, with an added sweetness from 
her sorrow. As she moved among the guests, 
speaking with gentle greeting to each, all eyes 
followed her with evident pleasure and interest. 
She wore a soft gray gown, which clung closely 
to her graceful figure: one pale pink carnation 
at her throat, and one in her hair, were her only 
ornaments. When Raby, with his white frock and 
blue ribbons, was in her arms, the picture was one 
which would have delighted an artist’s eye. Mrs. 
Little felt a strange mingling of pride and ir¬ 
ritation at what she saw. Very keenly James 
watched her: he hovered near her continually, 
ready to forestall any thing unpleasant or to assist 
any reconciliation. She observed this; observed, 
also, how his gaze followed each movement of 
Sally’s : she understood it. 



138 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“You needn’t hang round so, Jim,” she said: 
“I can see for myself. If it’s any comfort to 
you, I ’ll say that your wife’s the most improved 
woman I ever saw ; and I’m very glad on’t. But 
I ain’t going to speak to her : I’ve said I won’t, 
and I won’t. People must lie on their beds as 
they make ’em.” 

James made no reply, but walked away. It 
seemed to him that, at that instant, a chord in 
his filial love snapped, and was for ever lost. 

Moment by moment, Sally watched and waited 
for the recognition which never came. Bearing 
Raby in her arms, she passed and repassed, 
drawing as near Mrs. Little as she dared. 
“ Surely she must see that nobody else here 
wholly despises me,” thought the poor woman ; 
and, whenever any one spoke with especial kind¬ 
ness to her, she glanced involuntarily to see if 
her mother-in-law were observing it. But all in 
vain. Mrs. Little’s pale and weak blue eyes 
roamed everywhere, but never seemed to rest 
on Sally for a second. Gradually Sally compre¬ 
hended that all her hopes had been unfounded, 
and a deep sadness settled on her expressive 
face. “It’s no use,” she thought, “she’ll never 
speak to me in the world, if she won’t to-night.” 

Even during the moments of the marriage 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 139 


ceremony, Hetty observed the woe on Sally’s 
countenance ; and, strange as it may seem, — 
or would seem in any one but Hetty, — while 
the minister was making his most impressive 
addresses and petitions, she was thinking to 
herself: “ The hard-hearted old woman ! She 

hasn’t spoken to Sally. I wish I hadn’t asked 
her. I ’ll pay her off yet, before the evening is 
over.” 

After the ceremony was done, and the guests 
were crowding up to congratulate Hetty, she 
whispered to James : 

“ Bring Sally up here.” 

When Sally came, Hetty said: 

“ Stand here close to me, Sally.. Don’t go 
away.” 

Presently Deacon Little approached with Mrs. 
Little. Hetty kissed the good old man as heart¬ 
ily as if he had been her father; then, turning 
to Mrs. Little, she said in a clear voice: 

“ I am very glad to see you in my house at 
last, Mrs. Little. Have you seen Sally yet ? She 
has been so busy receiving our friends, that I 
am afraid you have hardly had a chance to talk 
with her. Sally,” she continued, turning and 
taking Sally by the hand, “ I shall be at liberty 
now to attend to my friends, and you must de- 



140 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


vote yourself to Mrs. Little ; ” and, with the 
unquestioning gesture of an empress, Hetty 
passed Mrs. Little over into Sally’s charge. 

Nobody could read on Hetty’s features at this 
moment any thing except most cordial good-will 
and the tender happiness of a bride ; but her 
heart was fighting like a knight in a tourna¬ 
ment for rescue of one beset, and she was in¬ 
wardly saying: “ If she dares to refuse speak 

to her now, I ’ll expose her before this whole 
roomful of people.” 

Mrs. Little did not dare. More than ever she 
dreaded Hetty at this moment, and her surprise 
and fear added something to her manner to¬ 
wards Sally which might almost have passed 
for eagerness, as they walked away together; 
poor Sally lifting one quick deprecating look at 
Hetty’s smiling and inexorable face. Deacon 
Little hastily retreated to a corner, where he 
stood wiping his forehead, endeavoring not to 
look alarmed, and thinking to himself: 

“ Well, if Hetty don’t beat all! What ’ll Mrs. 
Little do now, I wonder?” And presently, as 
cautiously as a man stalking a deer, he followed 
the couple, and tried to judge, by the expres¬ 
sion of his wife’s face, how things were going. 
Things were going very well. Mrs. Little had, 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 141 


in common with all weak and obstinate persons, 
a very foolish fear of ever being supposed to be 
dictated to or controlled by anybody. She was 
distinctly aware that Hetty had checkmated her. 
She had strong suspicions that there might be 
others looking on who understood the game; 
and the only subterfuge left her, the only 
shadow of pretence of not having been outwit¬ 
ted, was to appear as if she were glad of the 
opportunity of talking with Sally. Sally’s appeal¬ 
ing affectionateness of manner went very far to 
make this easy. She had no resentment to con¬ 
ceal : all these years she had never blamed Jim’s 
mother ; she had only yearned to win her love, 
to be permitted to love her. She looked up in 
her face now, and said, as they walked on: 

“ Oh! I did so want to speak to you, but I did 
not dare to.” 

It consoled weak Mrs. Little, for her pres¬ 
ent consciousness of being very much afraid of 
Hetty, to hear that she herself had inspired a 
great terror in some one else ; and she an¬ 
swered, condescendingly: 

“ I have always wished you well, ” — she hesi¬ 
tated for a word, but finally said, — “ Sally.” 

“ Thank you,” said Sally. “ I know you did 
I never wondered.” 



142 HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


Mrs. Little was much appeased. She had not 
counted on such humility. At this moment they 
were met by the nurse, carrying Raby; and he 
was a fruitful subject of conversation. Presently 
he began to cry; and Sally, taking him in her 
arms, said, as if by a sudden inspiration, “ I think 
I had better take him upstairs. Wouldn’t you 
like to go up with me, and see what lovely rooms 
Hetty has given to Jim and me ? ” 

The friendliness of the bedroom, the disarm¬ 
ing presence of the baby, completed Mrs. Little’s 
surrender ; and when James Little, missing his 
wife, went to her room to seek her, he stood still 
on the threshold, mute with surprise. There sat 
his mother with Raby on her lap ; Sally on her 
knees by an opened bureau-drawer, was showing 
her all Raby’s clothes, and the two women’s 
faces were aglow with pleasure. James stole 
in softly, came behind his mother, and kissed her 
as he had not kissed her since he was a boy. 
Neither of the three spoke; but little Raby 
crowed out a sudden and unexplained laugh, 
which seemed a fitting sign and seal of the 
happy moment, and set them all at ease. When 
Sally described the scene to Hetty, she said: 

“Oh, I was so frightened when Jim came in! 
I thought he’d be sure to say something to his 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 143 


mother that would spoil every thing. But the 
Lord put it into Raby’s head to go off in one of 
his great laughs at nothing, and that made us all 
laugh, and the first thing that came into my 
head was that verse, 4 And a little child shall 
lead them.’ ” 

“ Dear me, Sally, does any thing happen that 
doesn’t put you in mind of some verse in the 
Bible ? ” laughed Hetty. 

“ Not many things, Hetty,” replied Sally. 
“ Those years that I was alone all the time, I 
used to read it so much that it’s always coming 
into my head now, whatever happens.” 

After the last guest had gone, Doctor Eben 
and Hetty stood alone before the blazing fire. 
Hetty was beautiful on this night: no white lace, 
no orange blossoms, to make the ill-natured sneer 
at the middle-aged bride attired like a girl; no 
useless finery to be laid away in chests and 
cherished as sentimental mementos of an occa¬ 
sion. A substantial heavy silk of a useful shade 
of useful gray was Hetty Gunn’s wedding gown ; 
and she wore on her breast and in her hair white 
roses, “ which will do for my summer bonnets 
for years,” Hetty had said, when she bought 
them. 

But her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright, and 



144 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


her brown curls lovelier than ever. Dr. Ebcn 
might well be pardoned the pride and delight 
with which he drew her to his side and ex¬ 
claimed, “ Oh, Hetty! are you really mine ? 
How beautiful you look ! ” 

“ Do you think so ? ” said Hetty, taking a sur¬ 
vey of herself in the old-fashioned glass slanted 
at a steep angle above the mantel-piece. “ I 
don’t. I hate fine gowns and flowers on me. 
If I’d have dared to, I’d have been married in 
my old purple.” 

“ I shouldn’t have cared,” replied her husband. 
“ But it is better as it is. Welbury people would 
have never left off talking, if you had done that.” 

They were a beautiful sight, the two, as they 
stood with their arms around each other, in the 
fire-light. Dr. Eben was tall and of a command¬ 
ing figure; his head was almost too massive for 
even his broad shoulders ; his black hair was 
wellnigh shaggy in its thickness; and his dark 
gray eyes looked out from under eyebrows which 
were like projecting eaves, and threw shadows 
on his cheeks below. Hetty’s fair, rosy face, 
and golden-brown curls, were thrown out into 
relief by all this dark coloring so near, as a sun¬ 
beam is when it plays on a dark cloud. The 
rooms were full of the delicate fragance of apple 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 145 


blossoms. The corners were filled with them ; the 
walls were waving with them. Sally had begged 
permission to have, for once, all the apple blos¬ 
soms she desired; and, despite groans and grum¬ 
blings from Mike, she had rifled the orchards. 

“ Faith, an’ a good tin bushel she’s taken off 
the russets,” Mike said to Norah ; “ an’ as for 
thim gillies yer was so fond of, there’s none left 
to spake of on any o’ the trees. Now if she’d er 
tuk thim old blue pearmain trees, I wouldn’t 
have said a word. But, ‘ Oh no ! ’ sez she, ‘ I 
must have all pink uns ; ’ an’ it was jest the pink 
uns that was our best trees ; that’s jest as much 
sinse as ye wimmin’s got.” 

“ Wull, thin, an’ I ’m thinkin’ yer wouldn’t 
have grudged Miss Hetty her own apples, if it 
was in barrls ye had ’em,” replied the practical 
Norah, “ an’ I don’t see where’s the differ.” 

“ Yer don’t! ” said Mike, angrily. “ If it had 
ha plazed God to make a man o’ yer, ye’d ha 
known more ’n yer do ; ” and with this character¬ 
istically masculine shifting of his premises, Mike 
turned his back on Norah. 

Neither Hetty nor Doctor Eben had ever 
heard that lovers should not wed in May ; and, as 
they looked up at the great fragrant pink and 
white boughs on the walls, Hetty exclaimed: 


IO 



146 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ Nobody ought to be married except when 
apple-trees are in bloom. Nothing else could 
have been half so lovely in the rooms, and the 
fire-light makes them all the prettier. What a 
genius Sally has for arranging flowers. Who 
would have thought common stone jars could 
look so well ? ” 

Sally had taken the largest sized gray stone 
jars she could buy in Welbury, and in these had 
set boughs six and seven feet long, looking like 
young trees. On the walls she had placed deep 
wooden boxes with shield-shaped fronts; these 
fronts were covered with gray lichens from the 
rocks; the rosy blossoms waved from out these 
boxes, looking as much at home as they did 
above the lichen-covered trunks of the trees in 
the orchard. 

“Poor dear Sally!” Hetty continued, “she 
had a hard time the first part of the evening. 
That stony old woman wouldn’t speak to her. 
But I took her in hand afterward. Did you 
observe ? ” 

“ Observe! ” shouted Dr. Eben. “ I should 
think so. You hardly waited till the minister 
had got through with us.” 

“I didn’t wait till then,” replied Hetty, de¬ 
murely. “ I was planning it all the while he 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 14 / 


was telling me about my duty to you. I 
didn’t believe he could tell me much about 
that, anyway; and the duty that weighed on 
my mind most at that minute was my duty to 
Sally.” 

And thus, in the flickering fire-light and the 
apple-blossom fragrance, the two wedded lovers 
sat talking and dreaming, and taking joy of each 
other while the night wore on. There was no 
violent transition, no great change of atmosphere, 
in the beginnings of their wedded life. Dr. 
Eben had now lived so much at “ Gunn’s,” that 
it seemed no strange thing for him to live there 
altogether. If it chafed him sometimes that it 
was Hetty’s house and not his, Hetty’s estate, 
Hetty’s right and rule, he never betrayed it. 
And there was little reason that it should chafe 
him ; for, from the day of Hetty Gunn’s marriage, 
she was a changed woman in the habits and 
motives of her whole life. The farm was to her, 
as if it were not. All the currents of her being 
were set now in a new channel, and flowed as 
impetuously there as they had been wont to 
flow in the old ones. Her husband, his needs, 
his movements, were now the centre around 
which her fine and ceaseless activity revolved. 
There was not a trace of sentimental expression 




148 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


to this absorption. A careless observer might 
have said that her manner was deficient in ten¬ 
derness ; that she was singularly chary of caresses 
and words of love. But one who saw deeper 
would observe that not the smallest motion of 
the doctor’s escaped her eye; not his lightest 
word failed to reach her ear; and every act of 
hers was planned with either direct or indirect 
reference to him. In his absence, she was pre¬ 
occupied and uneasy; in his presence, she was 
satisfied, at rest, and her face wore a sort of 
quiet radiance hard to describe, but very beauti¬ 
ful to see. As for Dr. Eben, he thought he had 
entered into a new world. Warmly as he had 
loved and admired Hetty, he had not been pre¬ 
pared for these depths in her nature. Every day 
he said to her, “ Oh, Hetty, Hetty! I never 
knew you. I did not dream you were like this.” 
She would answer lightly, laughingly, perhaps 
almost brusquely; but intense feeling would 
glow in her face as a light shines through glass ; 
and often, when she turned thus lightly away 
from him, there were passionate tears in her 
eyes. It very soon became her habit to drive 
with him wherever he went. Old Doctor Tut- 
hill had died some months before, and now the 
county circuit was Doctor Eben’s. His love of 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY,\ 149 


his profession was a passion, and nothing now 
stood in the way of his gratifying it to the ut¬ 
most. Books, journals, all poured in upon him. 
Hetty would have liked to be omniscient that 
she might procure for him all he could desire. 
Every morning they might be seen dashing over 
the country with a pair of fleet, strong gray 
horses. In the afternoon, they drove a pair of 
black ponies for visits nearer home. Sometimes, 
while the doctor paid his visits, Hetty sat in the 
carriage; and, when she suspected that he had 
fallen into some discussion not relative to the 
patient’s case, she would call out merrily, with 
tones clear and ringing enough to penetrate any 
walls : “ Come, come, doctor! we must be off.” 
And the doctor would spring to his feet, and run 
hastily, saying: “You see I am under orders 
too : my doctor is waiting outside.” Under the 
seat, side by side with the doctor’s medicine 
case, always went a hamper which Hetty called 
“ the other medicine case; ” and far the more 
important it was of the two. Many a poor 
patient got well by help of Hetty’s soups and 
jellies and good bread. Nothing made her so 
happy as to have the doctor come home, say¬ 
ing : “ I’ve got a patient to-day that we must 
feed to cure him.” Then only, Hetty felt that 



150 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


she was of real help to her husband : of any 
other help that she might give him Hetty was 
still incredulous ; intangible things were a little 
out of Hetty’s range. Even her great and pas¬ 
sionate love had not fully opened her eyes to all 
love’s needs and expressions. All that it meant 
to her was a perpetual doing, ministration, a 
compelling of the happiness of the loved object. 
And here, as everywhere else in her life, she was 
fully content only when there was something 
evident and ready to be done. If her husband 
had taken the same view of love, — had insisted 
on perpetual ministerings to her in tangible 
forms, — she would have been bewildered and 
uncomfortable; and would, no doubt, have re¬ 
plied most illogically : “ Oh, don’t be taking so 
much trouble about me. I can take care of my¬ 
self ; I always have.” But Doctor Eben was in 
no danger of disturbing Hetty in this way. 
Without being consciously a selfish man, he had 
a temperament to which acceptance came easy. 
And really Hetty left him no time, no room, for 
any such manifestations towards her, even had 
they been spontaneously natural. Moreover, 
Hetty was a most difficult person for anybody 
to help in any way. She never seemed to have 
needs or wants: she was always well, brisk, 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


151 


cheery, prepared for whatever occurred. There 
really seemed to be nothing to do for Hetty but 
to kiss her; and that Doctor Eben did most 
heartily, and of persistence ; and Hetty liked 
it better than any thing in this world. With 
his whole heart and strength, Eben Williams 
loved his wife ; and he loved her better and 
better, day by day. But she herself, by her 
peculiar temperament, her habits of activity, 
and disinterestedness, made it, in the outset, 
out of the question that any man living with 
her as her husband should ever fully learn a 
husband’s duties and obligations. 



152 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


ND now we shall pass over an interval of 



“*■ eight years in the history of “ Gunn’s.” 
For it is only the “strange history” of Eben 
and Hetty that was to be told in this story, and 
in these years’ history was nothing strange ; un¬ 
less, indeed, it might be said that they were 
strangely happy years. The household remained 
unchanged, except that there were three more 
babies in Mike’s cottage, and Hetty had been 
obliged to build on another room for him. Old 
Nan and Caesar still reigned. Caesar’s head 
was as white and tight-curled as the fleece of 
a pet lamb. He was now a shining light in the 
Methodist meeting; but he had not yet broken 
himself of his oaths. “ Damn — bress de Lord ” 
was still heard on occasion : but everybody, even 
Nan, had grown so used to it that it did not pass 
for an oath; and, no doubt, even the recording 
angel had long since ceased to put it down. 



HETTY'S STRANGE ' HISTORY. 153 


James Little and his wife were now as much a 
part of the family as if they had had the old 
Squire’s blood in their veins; and nobody 
thought about the old time of their disgrace, 
— nobody but Jim and Sally themselves. From 
their thoughts it was never absent, when they 
looked on the beautiful, joyous face of Raby. 
He had grown beyond his years, and looked like 
a boy of twelve. He was manly, frank, impul¬ 
sive ; a child after Hetty’s own heart, and much 
more like her than he was like his father or his 
mother. It was a question, also, if h'e did not 
love her more than he loved either of his 
parents : all his hours with her were un¬ 
clouded ; over his intercourse with them, there 
always hung the undefined cloud of an unex¬ 
pressed sadness. 

Hetty was changed. Her hair was gray ; her 
fair skin weather-beaten ; and the fine wrinkles 
around the corners of her merry eyes radiated 
like the spokes of a wheel. She had looked 
young at thirty-seven ; she looked old at 
forty-five. The phlegmatic and lazy some¬ 
times seem to keep their youth better than the 
sanguine and active. It is a cruel thing that 
laughter should age a woman’s face almost as 
much as weeping; but it does. Sunny as 



154 HETTY'* STRANGE HISTORY. 


Hetty’s face was, it had come to have a look 
older than it ought, simply because the kindly 
eyes had so often twinkled and half closed in 
merry laughter. 

Time had dealt more kindly with Doctor 
Eben. He was a handsomer man at forty-one 
than he had been at thirty-three: the eight 
years had left no other trace upon him. Face, 
figure, step, all were as full of youth and vigor 
as upon the day when Hetty first met him walk¬ 
ing down the pine-shaded road. The precise 
moment when the first pang of consciousness 
of the discrepancy between her husband’s looks 
and her own entered Hetty’s mind would be 
hard to determine. It began probably in some 
thoughtless jest of her own, or even of his ; for, 
in his absolute loyalty of love, his unquestioning 
and long-established acceptance of their relation 
as a perfect one, it would never have crossed 
Doctor Eben’s mind that Hetty could possibly 
care whether she looked older or younger than 
he. He never thought about her age at all: in 
fac 4 he could not have told either her age or his 
own with exactness ; he was curiously forgetful 
of such matters. He did not see the wrinkles 
around her eyes. He did not know that her skin 
was weather-beaten, her figure less graceful, her 




HETTY'S STRANGE HISTOR Y. 155 


hair fast turning gray. To him she was simply 
“ Hetty: ” the word meant as it always had meant, 
fulness of love, delight, life. Doctor Eben was 
a man of that fine fibre of organic loyalty, to 
which there is not possible, even a temptation 
to forsake or remove from its object. Men hav¬ 
ing this kind of uprightness and loyalty, rarely 
are much given to words or demonstrations of 
affection. To them love takes its place, side 
by side with the common air, the course of the 
sun, the succession of days and nights, and 
all other unquestioned and unalterable things 
in the world. To suggest to such a man the 
possibility of lessening in his allegiance to a 
wife, is like proposing to him to overthrow the 
whole course of nature. He simply cannot con¬ 
ceive of such a thing; and he has no tolerance 
for it. He is by the very virtue of his organic 
structure incapable of charity for men who sin 
in that way. There are not many such men, 
but the type exists ; and well may any woman 
felicitate herself to whom it is given to rest her 
life on such sure foundations. If there be some 
lack of the daily manifestations of tenderness, 
the ready word, the ever-present caress, she 
may recollect that these are often the first 
fruits of a passion whose early way-side har- 



156 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY . 


vest will be scorched and shrivelled as soon as 
the sun is high ; while the seed which bringeth 
forth a hundred, nay a thousand fold, of true 
grain, sleeps in long silence, and grows up 
noiseless and slow. 

Doctor Eben did not know that he was in 
many small ways an unloverlike husband. He 
did not know that his absorption in his profes¬ 
sional studies made him often seem unaware of 
Hetty’s presence for hours together, when she 
was watching and waiting for a word. He did 
not know that he sometimes did not hear when 
she spoke, and did not answer when he heard. 
He did not know a hundred things which he 
would have known, if he had been a less upright 
and loyal man, and if Hetty had been a less un¬ 
selfish woman. Neither did Hetty know any of 
these things, or note them, until the poisoned 
consciousness awoke in her mind that she was 
fast growing old, and her face was growing less 
lovely. This was the first germ of Hetty’s un¬ 
happiness. It had been very hard for her in the 
beginning to believe herself loved : now all her 
old incredulity returned with fourfold strength; 
and now it was not met as then by constant and 
vehement evidence to conquer it. Here again, 
had Hetty been like other women, she might 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 157 


have been spared her suffering. Had it been 
possible for her to demand, to even invite, she 
would have won from her husband, at any in¬ 
stant, all that her anxiety could have asked; 
but it was not possible. She simply went on 
silently, day after day, watching her husband 
more intently; keeping record, in her morbid 
feeling, of every moment, every look, every word 
which she misapprehended. Beyond this mor¬ 
bidness of misapprehension, there was no other 
morbidness in Hetty’s state. She did not 
pine or grieve; she only began slowly to 
wonder what she could do for Eben now. Her 
sense of loss and disappointment, in that she 
had borne him no children, began to weigh more 
heavily upon her. “ If I were mother of his 
children,” she said to herself, “it would not make 
so much difference if I did grow old and ugly. 
He would have the children to give him pleas¬ 
ure.” “ I don’t see what there is left for me to do,” 
she said again and again. Sometimes she made 
pathetic attempts to change the simplicity of 
her dress. “ Perhaps if I wore better clothes, I 
should look younger,” she thought. But the 
result was not satisfactory. Her severe style 
had always been so essentially her own that any 
departure from it only made her look still more 



158 HETTY S STRANGE HISTORY. 


altered. All this undercurrent of annoyance 
and distress added continually to the change in 
her face: gradually its expression grew more 
grave ; she smiled less frequently; had fits of 
abstraction and reverie, which she had never 
been known to have before. 

In a vague way, Doctor Eben observed these, 
and wondered what Hetty was thinking about; 
but he never asked. Often they drove for a 
whole day together, without a dozen words being 
spoken ; but the doctor was buried in medita¬ 
tions upon his patients, and did not dislike the 
silence. Hetty did not realize that the change 
here was more in her than in him : in the old 
days it had been she who talked, not the doctor; 
now that she was silent, he went on with his 
trains of thought undisturbed, and was as con¬ 
tent as before, for she was by his side. He felt 
her presence perpetually, even when he gave no 
sign of doing so. 

Many months went by in this way, a summer, 
a winter, part of a spring, and Hetty’s forty- 
fifth birthday came, and found her a seriously 
unhappy woman. Yet, strange to say, nobody 
dreamed of it. So unchanged was the external 
current of her life : such magnificent self-control 
had she, and such absolute disinterestedness 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 159 


Little Raby was the only one who ever had a con¬ 
sciousness that things were not right. He was 
Hetty’s closest comrade and companion now. 
All the hours that she did not spend driving 
with the doctor (and she drove with him less 
now than had been her custom) she spent with 
Raby. They took long rambles together, and 
long rides, Raby being already an accomplished 
and fearless little rider. By the subtle instinct 
of a loving child, Raby knew that “ Aunt Hetty” 
was changed. A certain something was gone 
out of the delight they used to take together. 
Once, as they were riding, he exclaimed : 

“ Aunt Hetty, you haven’t spoken for ever 
so long! What’s the matter ? you don’t talk 
half so much as you used to.” 

And Hetty, conscience-stricken, thought to 
herself : “ Dear me, how selfish it makes one to 
be unhappy! Here I am, letting it fall on this 
dear, innocent darling. I ought to be ashamed.” 
But she answered gayly: 

“ Oh, Raby! aunty is growing old and stupid, 
isn’t she ? She must look out, or you ’ll get tired 
of her.” 

“ I shan’t either : you ’re the nicest aunty in 
the whole world,” cried Raby. “ You ain’t a bit 
old ; but I wish you’d talk.” 



l6o HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


Then and there, Hetty resolved that never 
again should Raby have occasion to think thus ; 
and he never did. Before long he had forgotten 
all about this conversation, and all was as before. 
This was in May. One day, in the following 
June, as Hetty and the doctor were driving 
through Springton, he said suddenly: 

“ Oh, Hetty! I want you to come in with me 
at one place this morning. There is the most 
perfectly beautiful creature there I ever saw, — 
the oldest daughter of a Methodist minister who 
has just come here to preach. Poor child ! she 
cannot sit up, or turn herself in bed ; but she 
is an angel, and has the face of one, if ever a 
human creature had. They are very poor and 
we must help them all we can. I have great 
hopes of curing the child, if she can be well fed. 
It is a serious spinal disease, but I believe it can 
be cured.” 

When Hetty first looked on the face of Rachel 
Barlow, she said in her heart: “ Eben was right. 
It is the face of an angel ; ” and when she heard 
Rachel’s voice, she added, “ and the voice also.” 
Some types of spinal disease seem to have a 
marvellously refining effect on the countenance ; 
producing an ethereal clearness of skin, and 
brightness of eye, and a spiritual expression. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. l6l 


which are seen on no other faces. Rachel Bar- 
low was a striking instance of this almost 
abnormal beauty. As her fair face looked up at 
you from her pillow, your impulse was to fall on 
your knees. Not till she smiled did you feel 
sure she was human ; but when she smiled, the 
smile was so winningly warm, you forgot you 
had thought her an angel. For two years she 
had not moved from her bed, except as she was 
lifted in the strong arms of her father. For two 
years she had not been free from pain for a 
moment. Often the pain was so severe that she 
fainted. And yet her brow was placid, un¬ 
marked by a line, and her face in repose as serene 
as a happy child’s. 

Doctor Eben and Hetty sat together by the 
bed. 

“ Rachel,” said the doctor, “ I have brought 
my wife to help cure you. She is as good a 
doctor as I am.” And he turned proudly to 
Hetty. 

Rachel gazed at her earnestly, but did not 
speak. Hetty felt herself singularly embarrassed 
by the gaze. 

“ I wish I could help you,” she said; “ but I 
think my husband will make you well.” 

Rachel colored. 



162 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ I never permit myself to hope for it,” she 
replied. “ If I did, I should be discontented at 
once.” 

“ Why ! are you contented as it is ? ” ex¬ 
claimed Hetty impetuously. 

“ Oh, yes!” said Rachel. “I enjoy every 
minute, except when the pain is too hard : you 
don’t know what a beautiful thing life seems to 
me. I always have the sky you know ” (glancing 
at the window), “ and that is enough for a life¬ 
time. Every day birds fly by too ; and every 
day my father reads to me at least two hours. 
So I have great deal to think about.” 

“ Miss Barlow, I envy you,” said Hetty in a 
tone which startled even herself. Again Rachel 
bent on her the same clairvoyant gaze which had 
so embarrassed her before. Hetty shrank from 
it still more than at first, and left the room, say¬ 
ing to her husband : “ I will wait for you outside.” 

As they drove away, Hetty said : 

“ Eben, what is it in her look which makes me 
so uneasy ? I don’t like to have her look at me.” 

“Now that is strange,” replied the doctor. 
“ After you had left the room, the child said to 
me: ‘ What is the matter with your wife ? She 
is not well,’ and I laughed at the idea, and told 
her I never knew any woman half so well or 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 163 


strong. Rachel is a sort of clairvoyant, as per¬ 
sons in her condition are so apt to be ; but she 
made a wrong guess this time, didn’t she ? ” 

Hetty did not answer ; and the doctor turning 
towards her saw that her eyes were fixed on the 
sky with a dreamy expression. 

“ Why, Hetty ! ” he exclaimed. “ Why do 
you look so? You are perfectly well, are you 
not, dear ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! oh, yes ! ” Hetty answered, quickly 
rousing herself. “ I am perfectly well; and 
always have been, ever since I can remember.” 

After this, Hetty went no more with her hus¬ 
band to see Rachel. When he asked her, she 
said: “ No, Eben : I am going to see her alone. 
I will not go with you again. She makes me 
uncomfortable. If she makes me feel so, when 
I am alone with her, I shall not go at all. I 
don’t like clairvoyants.” 

“ Why, what a queer notion that is for you, 
wife! ” laughed the doctor, and thought no more 
of it. 

Hetty’s first interview with Rachel was a con¬ 
strained one. Nothing in Hetty’s life had pre¬ 
pared her for intercourse with so finely organized 
a creature : she felt afraid to speak, lest she 
should wound her; her own habits of thought 



164 HETIY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


and subjects of interest seemed too earthy to be 
mentioned in this presence ; she was vaguely 
conscious that all Rachel’s being was set to finer 
issues than her own. She found in this an un¬ 
speakable attraction ; and yet it also withheld 
her at every point and made her dumb. In spite 
of these conflicting emotions, she wanted to love 
Rachel, to help her, to be near her; and she 
went again and again, until the constraint wore 
off, and a very genuine affection grew up between 
them. Never, after the first day, had she felt 
any peculiar embarrassment under Rachel’s gaze, 
and her memory of it had nearly died away, 
when one day, late in the autumn, it was sud¬ 
denly revived with added intensity. It was a 
day on which Hetty had been feeling unusually 
sad. Even by Rachel’s bedside she could not 
quite throw off the sadness. Unconsciously, she 
had been sitting for a long time silent. As she 
looked up, she met Rachel’s eyes fixed full on 
hers, with the same penetrating gaze which had 
so disturbed her in their first interview. Rachel 
did not withdraw her gaze, but continued to look 
into Hetty’s eyes, steadily, piercingly, with an 
expression which held Hetty spell-bound. Pres¬ 
ently she said: 

“ Dear Mrs. Williams, you are thinking some- 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 165 


thing which is not true. Do not let it stay with 
you ” 

“ What do you mean, Rachel ? ” asked Hetty, 
resentfully. “No one can read another person s 
thoughts.” 

“Not exactly,” replied Rachel, in a timid 
voice, “ but very nearly. Since I have been ill, I 
have had a strange power of telling what people 
were thinking about: I can sometimes tell the 
exact words. I cannot tell how it is. I seem to 
read them in the air, or to hear them spoken. 
And I can always tell if a person is thinking 
either wicked thoughts or untrue ones. A 
wicked person always looks to me like a person 
in a fog. There have been some people in this 
room that my father thought very good ; but I 
knew they were very bad. I could hardly see 
their faces clear. When a person is thinking 
mistaken or untrue thoughts, I see something 
like a shimmer of light all around them : it comes 
and goes, like a flicker from a candle. When 
you first came in to see me, you looked so.” 

“ Pshaw, Rachel,” said Hetty, resolutely. 
“That is all nonsense. It is just the nervous 
fancy of a sick girl. You mustn’t give way to 
it.” 

“ I should think so too,” replied Rachel, meekly 



166 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ If it did not so often come exactly true. My 
father will tell you how often we have tried it.” 

“Well, then, tell me what I was thinking just 
now,” laughed Hetty. 

Rachel colored. “I would rather not,” she 
replied, in an earnest tone. 

“ Oh ! you ’re afraid it won’t prove true,” said 
Hetty. “ I ’ll take the risk, if you will.” 

Rachel hesitated, but finally repeated her first 
answer. “ I would rather not.” 

Hetty persisted, and Rachel, with great re¬ 
luctance, answered her as follows: 

“You were thinking about yourself: you were 
dissatisfied about something in yourself; you 
are not happy, and you ought to be; you are so 
good.” 

Hetty listened with a wonder-struck face. 
She disliked this more than she had ever in her 
life disliked any thing which had happened to 
her. She did not speak. 

“Do not be angry,” said Rachel. “You made 
me tell you.” 

“ Oh ! I am not angry,” said Hetty. “ I’m not 
so stupid as that; but it’s the most disagreeable 
thing, I ever knew. Can you help seeing these 
things, if you try ? ” 

“Yes, I suppose I migltf/ said Rachel. “I 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 167 


never try. It interests me to see what people 
are thinking about.” 

" Humph ! ” said Hetty, sarcastically. “ I 
should think so. You might make your fortune 
as a detective, if you were well enough to go 
about in the world.” 

“ If I were that, I should lose the power,” re 
plied Rachel. “The doctors say it is part of 
the disease.” 

“ Rachel,” exclaimed Hetty, vehemently, “ I ’ll 
never come near you again, if you don’t promise 
not to use this power of yours upon me. I 
should never feel comfortable one minute where 
you are, if I thought you were reading my 
thoughts. Not that I have any special secrets,” 
added Hetty, with a guilty consciousness ; “ but 
I suppose everybody thinks thoughts he would 
rather not have read.” 

“ I ’ll promise you, indeed I will, dear Mrs. 
Williams,” cried Rachel, much distressed. “ I 
never have read you, except that first day. It 
seemed forced upon me then, and to-day too. 
But I promise you, I will not do it again.” 

“ I suppose I shouldn’t know if you were doing 
it, unless you told me,” said Hetty, reflectively. 

“ I think you would,” answered Rachel. “ Do 
I not look peculiarly ? My father tells me that 
I do.” 



168 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ Yes, you do,” replied Hetty, recollecting that, 
in each of these instances, she had been much 
disturbed by Rachel’s look. “ I will trust you, 
then, seeing that you probably can’t deceive me.” 

When Hetty told the doctor of this, expecting 
that he would dismiss it as unworthy of attention, 
she was much surprised at the interest he showed 
in the account. He questioned her closely as to 
the expression of Rachel’s face, her tones of voice, 
during the interval. 

“And was it true, Hetty?” he asked; “was 
what she said true ? Were you thinking of some¬ 
thing in yourself which troubled you ? ” 

“Yes, I was,” said Hetty, in a low voice, fear¬ 
ing that her husband would ask her what; but 
he was only studying the incident from profes¬ 
sional curiosity. 

“ You are sure of that, are you? ” he asked. 

“Yes, very sure,” replied Hetty. 

“ Extraordinary! ’pon my word extraordinary ! ” 
ejaculated the doctor. “ I have read of such 
cases, but I have never more than half believed 
them. I’d give my right hand to cure that girl.” 

“Your right hand is not yours to give,” said 
Hetty, playfully. The doctor made no reply. 
He was deep in meditation on Rachel’s clairvoy¬ 
ance. Hetty looked at him for some moments, 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 169 


as earnestly as Rachel had looked at her. “ Oh 
if I could only have that power Rachel has! ” 
she thought. 

“Eben,” she said, “is it impossible for a 
healthy person to be a clairvoyant?” 

“ Quite,” answered the doctor, with a sudden 
instinct of what Hetty meant. “ No chance for 
you, dear. You ’ll never get at any of my secrets 
that way. You might as well try to make your¬ 
self Rachel’s age as to acquire this mysterious 
power she has.” 

Unlucky words ! Hetty bore them about with 
her. “That showed that he feels that I am old,” 
she said, as often as she recalled them. 

A month later, as she was sitting with Rachel 
one morning, there was a knock at the door. 
Hetty was sitting in such a position that she 
could not be seen from the door, but could see, 
in the looking-glass at the foot of Rachel’s bed, 
any person entering the room. As the door 
opened, she looked up, and, to her unspeakable 
surprise, saw her husband coming in ; saw, in 
the same swift second’s glance, the look of glad¬ 
ness and welcome on his face, and heard him 
say, in tones of great tenderness : 

“ How are you to-day, precious child ? ” In 
the next instant, he had seen his wife, and was, 



170 HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


in his turn, so much astonished, that the look of 
glad welcome which he had bent upon Rachel, 
was instantaneously succeeded by one of blank 
surprise, bent upon Hetty; surprise, and nothing 
else, but so great surprise that it looked almost 
like dismay and confusion. “ Why, Hetty ! ” he 
said, “ I did not expect to see you here.” 

“ Nor I you,” said Hetty, lightly ; but the light¬ 
ness of tone had a certain something of con¬ 
straint in it. This incident was one of those 
inexplicably perverse acts of Fate which make 
one almost believe sometimes in the depravity 
of spirits, if not in that of men. When Dr. 
Eben had left home that morning, Hetty had 
said to him: 

“ Are you going to Springton, to-day ? ” 

“ No, not to-day,” was the reply. 

“ I am very sorry,” answered Hetty. “ I 
wanted to send some jelly to Rachel.” 

“ Can’t go to-day, possibly,” the doctor had 
said. “ I have to go the other way.” 

But later in the morning he had met a mes¬ 
senger from Springton, riding post-haste, with 
an imperative call which could not be deferred. 
And, as he was in the village, he very natu¬ 
rally stopped to see Rachel. All of this he 
explained with some confusion ; feeling, for 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 171 


the first time in his long married life, that it 
was awkward for a man to have to account 
for his presence in any particular spot at any 
particular time. Hetty betrayed no annoyance 
or incredulity: she felt none. She was too 
sensible and reasonable a woman to have felt 
either, even if it had been simply a change of 
purpose on the doctor’s own part which had 
brought him to Springton. The thing which 
had lent the shade of constraint to Hetty’s 
voice, and which lay like an icy mountain 
on Hetty’s heart, was the look which she 
had seen on his face, the tone which she had 
heard in his voice, as he greeted Rachel. In 
that instant was planted the second germ of 
unhappiness in Hetty’s bosom. Of jealousy, in 
the ordinary acceptation of the term; of its ca¬ 
prices, suspicions, subterfuges; and, above all, of 
its resentments, — Hetty was totally incapable. 
If it had been made evident to her in any one 
moment, that her husband loved another woman, 
her first distinct thoughts would have been of 
sorrow for him rather than for herself, and of 
perplexity as to what could be done to make him 
happy again. At this moment, however, noth¬ 
ing took distinct shape in Hetty’s mind. It was 
merely the vague pain of a loving woman’s sen* 



172 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


sitive heart, surprised by the sight of tender 
looks and tones given by her husband to another 
woman. It was wholly a vague pain, but it was 
the germ of a great one; and, falling as it did 
on Hetty’s already morbid consciousness of her 
own loss of youth and beauty and attractive¬ 
ness, it fell into soil where such germs ripen as 
in a hot-bed. In a less noble nature than Het¬ 
ty’s there would have grown up side by side with 
this pain a hatred of Rachel, or, at least, an an¬ 
tagonism towards her. In the fine equilibrium 
of Hetty’s moral nature, such a thing was im¬ 
possible. She felt from that day a new interest 
in Rachel. She looked at her, often scrutiniz- 
ingly, and thought: “ Ah, if she were but well, 
what a sweet young wife she might make! I 
wish Eben could have had such a wife! How 
much better it would have been for him than 
having me ! ” She began now to go oftener with 
her husband to visit Rachel. Closely, but with 
no sinister motive, no trace of ill-feeling, she 
listened to all which they said. She observed 
the peculiar gentleness with which the doctor 
spoke, and the docility with which Rachel lis¬ 
tened ; and she said to herself: “ That is quite 
unlike Eben’s manner to me, or mine to him. I 
wonder if that is not more nearly the way it 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 173 


ought to be between husbands and wives. The 
wife ought to look up to her husband as a little 
child does.” Now, much as Hetty loved Dr. 
Eben, passionately as her whole life centred 
around him, there had never been such a feel¬ 
ing as this: they were the heartiest of com¬ 
rades, but each life was on a plane of absolute 
independence. Hetty pondered much on this. 



174 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


XI. 


NE day, as they sat by Rachel’s bed, the 



doctor had been counting her pulse. Hei 
little white hand looked like a baby’s hand in his. 
Holding it up, he said to Hetty : 

“ Look at that hand. It couldn’t do much 
work, could it! ” 

Involuntarily Hetty stretched out her large, 
well-knit brown hand, and put it by the side of 
Rachel’s. There are many men who would have 
admired Hetty’s hand the more of the two. It 
was a much more significant hand. To one 
who could read palmistry, it meant all that 
Hetty was; and it was symmetrical and firm. 
But, at that moment, to Dr. Eben it looked 
large and masculine. 

“ Oh, take it away, Hetty! ” he said, thought¬ 
lessly. “ It looks like a man’s hand by the side 
of this child’s.” 

Hetty laughed. She thought so too. But 
the words remained in her mind, and allied 



HE TTY 1 S STRANGE HISTORY. 175 


themselves to words that had gone before, and 
to things that had happened, and to thoughts 
which were restlessly growing, growing in Het¬ 
ty’s bosom. 

If Rachel had remained an invalid, probably 
Hetty’s thoughts of her, as connected with her 
husband, would never have gone beyond this 
vague stage which we have tried to describe. 
She would have been to Hetty only the sug¬ 
gestion of a possible ideal wife, who, had she 
lived, and had she entered into Dr. Eben’s 
life, might have made him happier than Hetty 
could. But Rachel grew better and stronger 
every day. Early in the spring she began to 
walk, — creeping about, at first, like a little child 
just learning to walk, by pushing a chair before 
her. Then she walked with a cane and her 
father’s arm ; then with the cane alone ; and at 
last, one day in May, — oddly enough it was the 
anniversary of Hetty’s wedding-day, — Dr. Eben 
burst into her room, exclaiming : “ Hetty ! Hetty ! 
Rachel has walked several rods alone. She is 
cured ! She is going to be as well as anybody.” 

The doctor’s face was flushed with excitement. 
Never had he had what seemed to him so great 
a professional triumph. It was the physician 
and not the man that felt so intensely. But 



176 HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


Hetty could not wholly know this. She had 
shared his deep anxiety about the case; and 
she had shared much of his strong interest in 
Rachel, and it was with an unaffected pleasure 
that she exclaimed : “ Oh, I ’m so thankful! ” 
but her next sentence was one which arrested 
her husband’s attention, and seemed to him a 
strange one. 

“Then there is nothing to hinder her being 
married, is there ? ” 

“ Why, no,” laughed the doctor, “ nothing, ex¬ 
cept the lack of a man fit to marry her! What 
put such a thought as that into your head, 
Hetty ? I don’t believe Rachel Barlow will ever 
be married. I’m sure I don’t know the man 
that’s worthy to so much as kiss the child’s 
feet! ” and the unconscious Dr. Eben hast¬ 
ened away, little dreaming what a shaft he 
had sped. 

Hetty stood at the open window, watching 
him, as far as she could see him, among the 
pines. The apple orchard, near the house, was 
in full bloom, and the fragrance came in at 
every window. A vase of the blossoms stood 
on Hetty’s bureau: it was one of her few, 
tender reminiscences, the love which she had 
had for apple blossoms ever since the night of 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 17 ; 


her marriage. She held a little cluster of them 
now in her hand, as she leaned on the window 
sill; they had been gathered for some days, and, 
as a light wind stirred the air, all the petals fell, 
and slowly fluttered down to the ground. Hetty 
looked wistfully at the bare stems. A distinct 
purpose at that moment was forming in her 
mind ; a purpose distinct in its aim, but, as yet, 
very vague in its shape. She was saying to her¬ 
self : “ If I were out of the way, Eben might 
marry Rachel. He needn’t say, he doesn’t know 
a man fit to do it. He is fit to marry any woman 
God ever made, and I believe he would be hap¬ 
pier with such a wife as that, and with children, 
than he can ever be with me.” 

Even now there was in Hetty no morbid jeal¬ 
ousy, no resentment, no suspicion that her hus¬ 
band had been disloyal to her even in thought. 
There had simply been forced upon her, by the 
slow accumulations of little things, the conviction 
that her husband would be happier with another 
woman for his wife than with her. It is probably 
impossible to portray in words all the processes 
of this remarkable woman’s mind and heart dur¬ 
ing these extraordinary passages of her life. 
They will seem, judged by average standards, 
morbid and unhealthy: yet there was no mor 


12 



178 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


bidness in them ; unless we are to call morbid 
all the great and glorious army of men and 
women who have laid down their own lives for 
the sake of others. That same fine and rare 
quality of self-abnegation which has inspired 
missionaries’ lives and martyrs’ deaths, inspired 
Hetty now. The morbidness, if there were any, 
was in the first entering into her mind of the 
belief that her husband’s happiness could be 
secured in any way so well as by her. But here 
let us be just to Hetty. The view she took was 
the common-sense view, which probably would 
have been taken by nine out of ten of all Dr. 
Eben’s friends. Who could say that it did not 
stand to reason, that a man would be happier 
with a wife, young, beautiful, of angelic sweet¬ 
ness of nature, and the mother of sons and 
daughters, than with an old, childless, and less 
attractive woman. The strange thing was that 
any wife could take this common-sense view of 
such a situation. It was not strange in Hetty, 
however. It was simply the carrying out of the 
impulses and motives which had characterized 
her whole life. 

About this time, Hetty began with Raby to 
practise rowing on Welbury Lake. This lake 
was a beautiful sheet of water, lying between 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 179 


Welbury and Springton. It was some two miles 
long, and one wide; and held two or three little 
wooded islands, which were much resorted to in 
the summer. On two sides of the lake, rose high, 
rocky precipices; no landing was possible there : 
the other two sides were thick wooded forests of 
pines and hemlocks. Nothing could exceed in 
loveliness the situation of this lake. Two roads 
led to it: one from the Springton, the other 
from the Welbury side; both running through 
the hemlock forests. In the winter these were 
used for carrying out ice, which was cut in great 
quantities on the lake. In the summer, no one 
crossed these roads, except parties of pleasure- 
seekers who went to sail or row on the lake. In 
a shanty on the Welbury side, lived an old man, 
who made a little money every summer by rent¬ 
ing a few rather leaky boats, and taking charge 
of such boats as were kept moored at his beach 
by their owners. 

Hetty had promised Raby that when he was 
ten years old he should have a fine boat, and 
learn to row. The time had come now for her 
to keep this promise. Every Saturday afternoon 
during the summer following Rachel’s recovery, 
Hetty and Raby spent on the lake. Hetty 
was a strong and skilful oars-woman. Little 



l8o HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


Raby soon learned to manage the boat as well 
as she did. The lake was considered unsafe 
for sail-boats, on account of flaws of wind 
which often, without any warning, beat down 
from the hills on the west side; but row¬ 
ing there was one of the chief pleasures of the 
young people of Welbury and Springton. In 
Hetty's present frame of mind, this lonely lake 
had a strange fascination for her. In her youth 
she had never loved it: she had always been 
eager to land on one of the islands, and spend 
hours in the depths of the fragrant woods, 
rather than on the dark and silent water. But 
now she never wearied of rowing round and 
round its water margin, and looking down into 
its unsounded depths. It was believed that Wel¬ 
bury Lake was unfathomable; but this notion 
probably had its foundation in the limited facili¬ 
ties in that region for sounding deep waters. 

One day Hetty rowed across the lake to the 
point where the Springton road came down to 
the shore. Pushing the boat up on the beach, 
she sprang out; and, telling Raby to wait there 
till she returned, she walked rapidly up the road. 
A guide-post said, “ Six miles to Springton.” 
Hetty stood some time looking reflectingly at 
this sign: then she walked on for half a mile. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. l8l 


till she came to another road running north ; 
here a guide-post said, “ Fairfield, five miles.” 
This was what Hetty was in search of. As she 
read the sign, she said in a low tone: “ Five 
miles ; that is easily walked.” Then she turned 
and hastened back to the shore, stopping on the 
way to gather for Raby a big bunch of the 
snowy Indian-pipes, which grew in shining 
clumps in the moist dark hemlock woods. A 
strange and terrible idea was slowly taking 
possession of Hetty. Day and night it haunted 
her. Once having been entertained as possible, 
it could never be banished from her mind. How 
such an impulse could have become deep-seated 
in a nature like Hetty’s will for ever remain a 
mystery. One would have said that she was the 
last woman in the world to commit a morbid or 
ill-regulated act. But the act she was meditat¬ 
ing now was one which seemed like the act 
of insanity. Yet had Hetty never in her life 
seemed farther removed from any such ten¬ 
dency. She was calm, cheerful, self-contained. 
If any one saw any change in her, it seemed 
like nothing more than the natural increase of 
quiet and decorum coming with her increased 
age. Even her husband, when he looked back 
on these months, trying in anguish to remember 




182 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


every day, every hour, could recall no word or 
deed or look of hers which had seemed to him 
unnatural. And yet there was not a day, hardly 
an hour, in which her mind was not occupied 
with the details of a plan for going away secretly 
from her house, under such circumstances as to 
make it appear that she had been drowned in 
the lake. That she must leave her husband 
free to marry Rachel Barlow had become a fixed 
idea in Hetty’s mind. She was too conscientious 
to kill herself for this purpose : moreover, she did 
not in the least wish to die. She was very un¬ 
happy in this keen conviction that she no longer 
sufficed for her husband’s happiness ; that she 
was, as she would have phrased it, “ in the way.” 
But she was not heart-broken over it, as a sen¬ 
timental and feeble woman would have been. 
“ There is plenty to do in the world,” she said 
to herself. “ I’ve got a good many years’ work 
left in me yet: the thing is how to get at it.” 
For many weeks she had revolved the matter 
hopelessly, till one day, as she was rowing with 
Raby on the lake, she heard a whistle of a 
steam-engine on the Springton side of the lake. 
In that second, her whole plan flashed upon her 
brain. She remembered that a railroad, leading 
to Canada, ran between Springton and the lake. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 183 


She remembered that there was a station not 
many miles from Springton. She remembered 
that far up in Canada was a little French vil¬ 
lage, St. Mary’s, where she had once spent part 
of a summer with her father. St. Mary’s was 
known far and near for its medicinal springs, 
and the squire had been sent there to try them. 
She remembered that there was a Roman Cath¬ 
olic priest there of whom her father had been 
very fond. She remembered that there were 
Sisters of Charity there, who used to go about 
nursing the sick. She remembered the physi¬ 
cian under whose care her father was. She re¬ 
membered all these things with a startling vivid¬ 
ness in the twinkling of an eye, before the echoes 
of the steam-engine’s whistle had died away on 
the air. She was almost paralyzed by the sudden¬ 
ness and the clearness with which she was im¬ 
pressed that she must go to St. Mary’s. She 
dropped the oars, leaned forward, and looked 
eagerly at the opening in the woods where the 
Springton road touched the shore. 

“ What is it, aunty ? What do you see ! ” 
asked Raby. The child’s voice recalled her to 
herself. 

“ Nothing ! nothing ! Raby. I was only lis¬ 
tening to the car-whistle. Didn’t you hear it ?' 
answered Hetty. 



184 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ No,” said Raby. “ Where are they going ? 
Can’t you take me some day.” 

The innocent words smote on Hetty’s heart. 
How should she leave Raby ? What would her 
life be without him ? his without her ? But 
thinking about herself had never been Hetty’s 
habit. That a thing would be hard for her had 
never been to Hetty any reason for not doing 
it, since she was twelve years old. From all the 
pain and loss which were involved to her in this 
terrible step she turned resolutely away, and 
never thought about them except with a guilty 
sense of selfishness. She believed with all the 
intensity of a religious conviction that it would 
be better for her husband, now, to have Rachel 
Barlow for his wife. She believed, with the same 
intensity, that she alone stood in the way of this 
good for him. Call it morbid, call it unnatural, 
call it wicked if you will, in Hetty Williams to 
have this belief: you must judge her conduct 
from its standpoint, and from no other. The 
belief had gained possession of her. She could 
no more gainsay it, resist it, than if it had been 
communicated to her by supernatural beings of 
visible presence and actual speech. Given this 
belief, then her whole conduct is lifted to a plane 
of heroism, takes rank with the grand martyr- 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 185 


doms; and is not to be lightly condemned by 
any who remember the words, — “ Greater love 
hath no man than this, that a man lay down his 
life for his friend.” 

The more Hetty thought over her plan, the 
simpler and more feasible it appeared. More 
and more she concentrated all her energies on 
the perfecting of every detail : she left nothing 
unthought of, either in her arrangements for her 
own future, or in her arrangements for those she 
left behind. Her will had been made for many 
years, leaving unreservedly to her husband the 
whole estate of “ Gunn’s,” and also all her other 
property, except a legacy to Jim and Sally, and 
a few thousand dollars to old Caesar and Nan. 
Hetty was singularly alone in the world. She 
had no kindred to whom she felt that she owed 
a legacy. As she looked forward to her own 
departure, she thought with great satisfaction of 
the wealth which would now be her husband’s. 
“ He will sell the farm, no doubt, — it isn’t likely 
that he will care to live on here ; and when he 
has it all in money he can go to Europe, as he 
has so often said he would,” she said to herself, 
still, as ever, planning for her husband’s enjoy¬ 
ment 

As the autumn drew near, she went oftener 




186 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


with Raby to row on the Lake. A spell seemed 
to draw her to the spot. She continually lived 
over, in her mind, all the steps she must take 
when the time came. She rowed slowly back 
and forth past the opening of the Springton 
road, and fancied her own figure walking alone 
up that bank for the last time. Several times 
she left Raby in the boat, and walked as far as 
the Fairfield guide-post, and returned. At last 
she had rehearsed the terrible drama so many 
times that it almost seemed to her as if it had 
already happened, and she found it strange to be 
in her own house with her husband and Jim and 
Sally and her servants. Already she began to 
feel herself dissevered from them. When every 
thing was ready, she shrank from taking the final 
step. Three times she went with Raby to the 
Lake, having determined within herself not to 
return ; but her courage failed her, and she found 
a ready excuse for deferring all until the next 
day. She had forgotten some little thing, or the 
weather looked threatening; and the last time 
she went back, it was simply to kiss her husband 
again. “One day more or less cannot make 
any difference,” she said to herself. “ I will kiss 
Eben once more.” Oh, what a terrible thing is 
this barrier of flesh, which separates soul from 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 187 


soul, even in the closest relation ! Our nearest 
and dearest friend, sitting so near that we can 
hear his every breath, can see if his blood runs 
by a single pulse-beat faster to his cheek, may 
yet be thinking thoughts which, if we could read 
them, would break our hearts. When the time 
came in which Eben Williams tried to recall the 
last moments in which he had seen his wife, 
all he could recollect was that she kissed him 
several times with more than usual affection. 
At the time he had hardly noted it: he was just 
setting off to see a patient, and Raby was urging 
Hetty to make haste; and their good-byes had 
been hurried. 

It was on a warm hazy day in October. The 
woods through which Hetty and Raby walked 
to the lake were full of low dogwood bushes, 
whose leaves were brilliant; red, pink, yellow, 
and in places almost white. Raby gathered 
boughs of these, and carried them to the boat. 
It was his delight to scatter such bright leaves 
from the stern of the boat, and watch them fol¬ 
lowing in its wake. They landed on the small 
island nearest the Springton shore, and looked 
for wild grapes, which were now beginning to 
be ripe. After an hour or two here, Hetty told 
Raby that they must set out: she had errands to 



188 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


do in the town before going home. She rowed 
very quickly to the beach, and, just as they were 
leaving the boat, she exclaimed: 

“ Oh, Raby, I have left my shawl on the island ; 
way around on the other side it is too. I must 
row back and get it.” 

Raby was about to jump into the boat, but 
she exclaimed: 

“ No, you stay here, and wait. I can row 
a great deal quicker with only one in the 
boat. Here, dear,” she said, taking off her watch, 
and hanging it round his neck, “you can have 
this to keep you from being lonely, and you can 
tell by this how long it will be before I get back. 
Watch the hands, and that will make the time 
seem shorter, they go so fast. It will take me 
about half an hour ; that will be—let me see— 
yes — just five o’clock. There is a good long 
daylight after that;” and, kissing him, she jumped 
into the boat and pushed off. What a moment 
it was. Her arms seemed to be paralyzed; but, 
summoning all her will, she drove the boat reso¬ 
lutely forward, and looked no more back at Raby. 
As soon as she had gained the other side of the 
island, where she was concealed from Raby’s 
sight by the trees, she pulled out vigorously for 
the Springton shore. When she reached it, she 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 189 


drew the boat up cautiously on the beach, fast¬ 
ened it, and hid herself among the trees. Her 
plan was to wait there until dusk, then push the 
boat adrift in the lake, and go out herself adrift 
into the world. She dared not set out on her walk 
to Fairfield until it was dark ; she knew, more¬ 
over, that the northern train did not pass until 
nearly midnight. These hours that Hetty spent 
crouched under the hemlock-trees on the shore of 
the lake were harder than any which she lived 
through afterward. She kept her eyes fixed on 
the opposite shore, on the spot where she knew 
the patient child was waiting for her. She pic¬ 
tured him walking back and forth, trying by 
childish devices to while away the time. As the 
sun sank low she imagined his first anxious 
look, — his alarm,— till it seemed impossible 
for her to bear the thoughts her imagination 
called up. He would wait, she thought, about 
one hour past the time that she had set for her 
return: possibly, for he was a brave child, he 
might wait until it began to grow dark ; he 
would think that she was searching for the 
shawl. She hoped that any other explanation of 
her absence would not occur to him until the 
very last. As the twilight deepened into dusk, 
the mysterious night sounds began to come up 



190 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


from the woods ; strange bird notes, stealthy 
steps of tiny creatures. Hetty’s nerves thrilled 
with the awful loneliness : she could bear it no 
longer ; she began to walk up and down the 
beach; the sound of her footsteps drowned 
many of the mysterious noises, and made her 
feel less alone. At last it was dark. With all 
her strength she turned her boat bottom side 
up, shoved it out into the lake, and threw the 
oars after it. Then she wrapped herself in a 
dark cloak, and walked at a rapid pace up the 
Springton road. When she reached the road 
which led to Fairfield, she stopped, leaned 
against the guide-post, and looked back and 
hesitated. It seemed as if the turning north¬ 
ward were the turning point of every thing. Her 
heart was very heavy : almost her purpose failed 
her. “ It is too late to go back now,” she said, 
and hurried on. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 191 


XII. 

'T'HE station-master at Fairfield, if he had 
been asked whether a woman took the 
midnight train north at Fairfield that night, 
would have unhesitatingly said, “ No.” An in¬ 
stinctive wisdom seemed to direct Hetty’s every 
step. She waited at some little distance from 
the station till the train came up : then, without 
going upon the station platform at all, she en¬ 
tered the rear car from the opposite side of the 
road. No one saw her ; not even a brakeman. 
When the train began to move, the sense of 
what she had done smote her with a sudden ter¬ 
ror, and she sprang to her feet, but sank down 
again, before any of the sleepy passengers had 
observed her motion. In a few moments she was 
calm. Her long habits of firm, energetic action 
began to resume sway : she compelled herself to 
look forward into the future, and not backward 
into the past she was so resolutely leaving be¬ 
hind her. Strangely enough, it was not her 



192 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


husband that she found hardest to banish from 
her thoughts now, but Raby. She could not 
escape from the vivid imagination of the dear 
child running in terror alone through the long 
stretch of woods. 

“ I wonder if he will cry,” thought poor Hetty: 
“ I hope not.” And the tears filled her eyes. 
Then she fell to wondering if there would be 
any doubt in anybody’s mind that her boat had 
suddenly capsized. “ They will think I leaned 
over to pick something off the bushes on the 
edge of the island,” said she. “ I have come 
very near capsizing that way more than once, 
and I have always told Eben when it had hap¬ 
pened. That is the first thing he will think of.” 
And thus, in a maze of incoherent crowding con¬ 
jectures and imaginings, all making up one great 
misery, Hetty sat whirling away from her home. 
By and by, her brain grew less active ; thought 
was paralyzed by pain. She sat motionless, 
taking no note of the hours of the night as they 
sped by, and roused from her dull reverie only 
when she saw the first faint red tinge of dawn 
in the eastern sky. Then she started up, with 
a fresh realization of all. “ Oh, it is morning ! ” 
she said. “ Have they given over looking for 
me, I wonder. I suppose they have been look- 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 193 


ing all night. By this time, they must be sure 
I am drowned. After I know all that is over, I 
shall feel easier. It can’t be quite so hard to 
bear as this.” 

In all Hetty’s imaginings of her plan, she had 
leaped over the interval of transition from the 
life she left to the life she proposed to lead. She 
had pictured herself always as having attained 
the calm rest of the shelter she would seek, 
the strong moral support of the work she would 
do. She had not dwelt on this wretched intei- 
val of concealment and flight ; she had not 
thought of this period of being an unknown 
outcast. A sense of ignominy began to crush 
her. It was a new thing for her to avoid a 
human eye: she felt guilty, ashamed, terror- 
stricken ; and, doubly veiling her face, she sat 
with her eyes closed, and her head turned away, 
like one asleep or ill. The day dragged slowly 
on. Now and then she left the train, and bought 
a new ticket to carry her farther. Even had 
there been suspicions of her flight, it would have 
been impossible to have traced her, so skil¬ 
fully had she managed. She had provided her¬ 
self with a time-table of the entire route, and 
bought new tickets only at points of junction 
where several roads met, and no attention could 
possibly be drawn to any one traveller. 

x 3 



194 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


At night she reached the city, where she had 
planned to remain for some days, to make pur¬ 
chases. When she entered the hotel, and was 
asked to register her name, no one who saw the 
quick and ready signature which she wrote 
would have dreamed that it was not her own : 

“ Mrs. Hibba Smailli, 

St. Mary’s, 

Canada.” 

“ One of those Welsh women, from St. Mary’s, 
I guess,” said the clerk; “ they all have those 
fresh, florid skins when they first come over 
here.” And with this remark he dismissed 
Hetty from his mind, only wondering now and 
then, as he saw her so often coming in, laden 
with parcels, “ what a St. Mary’s woman wanted 
with so many things.” 

During these days, while Hetty was unflinch- 
ingly going forward with all her preparations 
for her new home, the home she had left was a 
scene of terrible dismay and suffering. 

It was long after dark when little Raby, 
breathless and sobbing, had burst open the sit¬ 
ting-room door, crying out: 

“ Auntie’s drowned in the lake. I know she 
is ; or else a bear’s eaten her up. She said 
she’d be back in an hour. And here’s her 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 195 


watch,” — opening his little hot hand, in which 
he had held the watch tight through all his 
running, — “ she gave it to me to hold till she 
came back. And she said it would be five; 
and I stayed till seven, and she never came ; and 
a man brought me home.” And Raby flung 
himself on the floor, crying convulsively. 

His father and mother tried to calm him, 
and to get a more exact account from him of 
what had happened ; but, between their alarm 
and his hysterical crying, all was confusion. 

Presently, the man entered who had brought 
Raby home in his wagon. He was a stranger 
to them all. His narrative merely corroborated 
Raby’s, but threw no light on what had gone 
before. He had found the child on the main 
road, running very fast, and crying aloud. He 
had asked him to jump into his wagon; and 
Raby had replied: “Yes, sir: if you will whip 
your horse and make him run all the way to my 
house ? My auntie’s drowned in the lake ; ” 
and this was all the child had said. 

Poor Raby! his young nerves had entirely 
given way under the strain of those hours 
of anxious waiting. He had borne the first 
hour very well. When the watch said it was 
five o’clock, and Hetty was not in sight, he 




196 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


thought, as she had hoped he would, that she 
was searching for the shawl ; but, when six 
o’clock came, and her boat was not in sight, 
his childish heart took alarm. He ran to the 
shanty where the old boatman lived; and 
pounded furiously on the door, shouting loud, 
for the man was very deaf. The door was 
locked; no one answered. Raby pushed logs 
under the windows, and, climbing up, looked 
in. The house was empty. Then the little 
fellow jumped into the only boat which was 
there, and began to row out into the lake in 
search of Hetty. 

Alas ! the boat leaked so fast that it was with 
difficulty he got back to the shore. Perhaps, 
if Hetty, from her hiding-place, had seen the 
dear, brave child rowing to her rescue, it might 
have been a rescue indeed. It might have 
changed for ever the current of her life. But 
this was not to be. Wet and chilled, and 
clogged by his dripping shoes, Raby turned 
towards home. The woods were dark and full 
of shadows. The child had never been alone 
in them at night before; and the gloom added 
to his terrors. His feet seemed as if they 
would fail him at every step, and his sobbing 
;ries left him little breath with which to run. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 19 7 


Jim and Sally turned helplessly to the stran¬ 
ger, as he concluded his story. 

“ Oh, what shall we do ! what shall we do! ” 
they said. “ Oh, take us right back to the lake, 
won’t you ? and the rest will follow: we may 
find her.” 

“ There isn’t any boat,” cried Raby, from the 
floor. “ I tried to go for her, and the boat is all 
full of holes, and she must have been drowned 
ever so long by this time; she told me it only 
took half an hour, that nobody could be brought 
to life after that,” and Raby’s cries rose almost 
to shrieks, and brought old Caesar and Nan from 
the kitchen. As the first words of what had 
happened reached their ears, they broke into 
piercing lamentations. Nan, with inarticulate 
groans, and Caesar with, “ Damn ! damn! bress 
de Lord ! No, damn ! damn ! dat lake. Haven’t 
I always told Miss Hetty not to be goin’ there. 
Oh, damn! damn! no, no, bress de Lord! ” 
and the old man, clasping both hands above his 
head, rushed to the barn to put the horses into 
the big farm-wagon. With anguished hearts, and 
hopelessly, Jim and Sally piled blankets and pil¬ 
lows into the wagon, and took all the restoratives 
they could think of. They knew in their hearts 
all would be of no use. As they drove through 



198 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


the village they gave the alarm ; and, in an in¬ 
credibly short time, the whole shore of the lake 
was twinkling with lights borne high in the 
hands of men who were searching. Two boats 
were rowing back and forth on the lake, with 
bright lights at stern and prow ; and loud shouts 
filled the air. No answer; no clew: at last, 
from the island, came a pistol shot, — the signal 
agreed on. Every man stood still and listened. 
Slowly the boats came back to shore, drawing 
behind them Hetty’s boat; bringing one of the 
oars, and also Hetty’s shawl, which they had 
found, just where Raby had told them they would, 
in the wild-grape thicket. 

“Found it bottom-side up,” was all that the 
men said, as they shoved the boat high up on the 
sand. Then they all looked in each other’s 
faces, and said no more. There was nothing 
more to be done : it was now ten o’clock. Slowly 
the sad procession wound back to town through 
the rayless hemlock woods. Midway in them, 
they met a rider, riding at the maddest gallop. 
It was the doctor! No one had known where 
to send for him; and there was no time to 
be lost. Coming home, and wondering, as he 
entered, at the open doors and the unlighted 
windows, he had found Norah sitting on the 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 199 


floor by the weeping Raby, and trying to comfort 
him. Barely comprehending, in his sudden dis¬ 
tress what they told him, the doctor had sprung 
upon his horse and galloped towards the lake. 
As he saw the group of people moving towards 
him, looking shadowy and dim in the darkness, 
his heart stood still. Were they bearing home 
Hetty’s body ? Would he see it presently, lying 
lifeless and cold in their arms ? He dashed 
among them, reining his horse back on his 
haunches, and looking with a silent anguish into 
face after face. Nobody spoke. That first in¬ 
stant seemed a century long. Nobody could 
speak. At a glance the doctor saw that they 
were not bearing the sad burden he had feared. 

“ Not found her ? ” he gasped. 

“ No, doctor,” replied one nearest him, laying 
his hand on his arm. 

“ Then by God what have you come away for! 
have you got the souls of men in you ? ” ex¬ 
claimed Eben Williams, in a voice which seemed 
to shake the very trees, as he plunged onward. 

“It’s no use, doctor,” they replied sadly. 

“ We found her boat bottom up, and one of the 
oars ; and it was hours since it capsized.” 

“ What then ! ” he shouted back. “ My wife 
was as strong as any man: she can’t have 



200 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


drowned; Hetty can’t have drowned ; ” and his 
horse’s hoofs struck sparks from the stones as 
he galloped on. A few of the younger men 
turned back and followed him; but, when they 
reached the lake, he was nowhere to be seen. 
Old Caesar, who was sitting on the ground, his 
head buried on his knees, said : 

“He wouldn’t hear a word. He jest jumped 
into one of thim boats, and he was gone like 
lightning: he’s ’way across the lake by this 
time.” 

Silently the young men re-entered their boats 
and rowed out, carrying torches. Presently they 
overtook the doctor. 

“ Oh, thank God for that light! ” he exclaimed, 
“ Give one to me; let me have it here in my 
boat: I shall find her.” 

Like a being of superhuman strength, the 
doctor rowed; no one could keep up with him. 
Round and round the lake, into every inlet, close 
under the shadows of the islands ; again and 
again, over every mile of that treacherous, glassy, 
beautiful water, he rowed, calling every few mo¬ 
ments, in heart-breaking tones, “ Hetty ! Hetty ! 
Hetty! I am here, Hetty ! ” 

As the hours wore on, his strength began to 
flag ; he rowed more and more slowly : but, when 




HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


201 


they begged him to give over the search, and 
return home, he replied impatiently. “ Never! 
I ’ll never leave this lake till I find her.” It was 
useless to reason with him. He hardly heard 
the words. At last, his friends, worn out by the 
long strain, rowed to the shore, and left him 
alone. As he bade them good-by, he groaned, 
“ Oh, God ! will it never be morning ? If only it 
were light, I am sure I should find some trace of 
her.” But, when the morning broke, the pitiless 
lake shone clear and still, and all the hopeless¬ 
ness of his search flashed on the bereaved man’s 
mind: he dropped his oars, and gazed vacantly 
over the rippleless surface. Then he buried his 
face in his hands, and sat motionless for a long 
time: he was trying to recall Hetty’s last looks, 
last words. He recollected her last kisses. “ It 
was as if they were to bid me good-bye,” he 
thought. Presently, he took up the oars and 
rowed back to the shore. Old Caesar still sat 
there on the ground. The doctor touched him on 
the shoulder. He lifted a face so wan, so altered, 
that the doctor started. 

“ My poor old fellow,” he said, “ you ought 
not to have sat here all night. We will go home 
now. There is nothing more to be done.” 

“ Oh, yer ain’t a goin’ to give up, doctor, be 



202 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


yer ? ” cried Caesar. “ Oh, don’t never give up. 
She must be here somewheres. Bodies floats 
allers in fresh water: she ’ll come to shore be¬ 
fore long. Oh, don’t give up ! I ’ll set here 
an’ watch, an’ you go home an’ git somethin’ to 
eat. You looks dreadful.” 

“ No, no, Caesar,” the doctor replied, with the 
first tears he had felt yet welling up in his eyes, 
“you must come home with me. There is no 
hope of finding her.” 

Caesar did not move, but fixed a sullen gaze 
on the water. The doctor spoke again, more 
firmly : 

“You must come, Caesar. Your mistress 
would tell you so herself.” At this Caesar rose, 
docile, and the two went home in silence through 
the hemlock woods. 

For three days the search for Hetty continued. 
It was suggested that possibly she might have 
gone over to the Springton shore for some pur¬ 
pose, and there have met with some accident 
or assault. This suggestion opened up new 
vistas of conjecture, almost more terrible than 
the certainty of her death would have been. 
Parties of three and four scoured the woods 
in all directions. Again and again Dr. Eben 
passed over the spot where she had lain crouched 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 203 


so long : the bushes which had been brushed 
back as she passed, bent back again to let him 
go over her very footsteps ; but nothing could 
speak to betray her secret. Nature seems 
most mute when we most need her help: she 
keeps, through all our distresses, a sort of dumb 
and faithful neutrality, which is not, perhaps, so 
devoid of sympathy as it appears. 

After the third day was over, it was accepted 
by tacit consent that farther search would be 
useless. Hetty was mourned as dead: in every 
home her name was tenderly and sorrowingly 
spoken ; old memories of her gay and mirth¬ 
ful youth, of her cheery and busy womanhood, 
were revived and dwelt upon. But in her own 
home was silence that could be felt. The 
grief there was grief that could not speak. 
Only little Raby, of all the household, found 
words to use; and his childish and inconsolable 
laments made the speechless anguish around him 
all the greater. To Dr. Eben, the very sight 
of the child was a bitter and unreasonable pain. 
Except for Raby, he thought, Hetty would still 
be alive. He had never approved of her taking 
him on the water ; had remonstrated with her in 
the beginning, but had been overruled by her 
impetuous confidence in her own strength and 



204 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


skill. Now, as often as he saw the poor little 
fellow’s woe-begone face, he had a strange mix¬ 
ture of pity and hatred towards him. In vain 
he reasoned against it. “ He has lost his best 
friend, as well as I,” he said to himself ; “ I ought 
to try to comfort him.” But it was impossible : 
the child’s presence grew more and more irk¬ 
some to him, until, at last, he said to Sally, one 
day : 

“ Sally, you and Raby are both looking very 
ill. I want you to go away for a time. How 
would you like to go to ‘ The Runs,’ for a month ? ” 

“ Oh, not there, dear doctor! please do not 
send us there ! ” cried Sally. “ Indeed I could 
not bear it. We might go to father’s for awhile. 
That would be change enough ; and Raby would 
have children to play with there, in the village, 
all the time, and that would be the best thing for 
him.” 

So Jim and Sally went to Deacon Little’s to 
stay for a time. Mrs. Little welcomed them 
with a cordiality which it would have done 
Hetty’s heart good to see. Her old aversion to 
Sally had been so thoroughly conquered that she 
was more than half persuaded in her own mind 
it had never existed. When the doctor was left 
alone in the house, he found it easier to bear the 



HETTY'S STRAAGE HISTORY. 205 


burden of his grief. It is only after the first 
shock of a great sorrow is past that we are 
helped by faces and voices and the clasping of 
hands. At the first, there is but one help, but 
one healing ; and that is solitude. 

Dr. Eben came out from this grief an altered 
man. Poor Hetty ! How little she had under¬ 
stood her value to her husband ! Could she 
have seen him walking slowly from house to 
house, his eyes fixed on the ground, his head 
bent forward ; all his old elasticity of tread gone ; 
his ready smile gone; the light, glad look of his 
eyes gone, — how would she have repented her 
rash and cruel deed ! how would the scales have 
fallen from her eyes, revealing to her the mon¬ 
strous misapprehension to which she had sacri¬ 
ficed her life and his ! Even long after people 
had ceased to talk about Hetty’s death, or to 
remember it unless they saw the doctor, the 
first sight of his tall bowed figure recalled it all ; 
and again and again, as he passed men on the 
street, they turned and said to each other, with 
a sad shake of the head: 

“ He’s never got over it” 

“ No, nor ever will.” 

On the surface, life seemed to be going on at 
“ Gunn’s ” much as before. Jim and Sally and 




206 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


Raby made a family centre, to which the lonely 
doctor attached himself more and more. He 
came more and more to feel that Raby was a 
legacy left by Hetty to him. He had ceased to 
have any unjust resentment towards the child 
from his innocent association with her death: 
he knew that she had loved the boy as if he 
were her own ; and, in his long sad reveries 
about the future, he found a sort of melancholy 
pleasure in planning for Raby as he would 
have done had he been Hetty’s child. These 
plans for Raby, and his own devotion to his 
profession, were Dr. Eben’s only pleasure. He 
was fast becoming a physician of note. He 
was frequently sent for in consultation to all parts 
of the county; and his contributions to medi¬ 
cal journals were held in high esteem. The 
physician, the student, had gained unspeak¬ 
ably by the loss which had so nearly crushed 
the man. 

Development and strength, gained at such 
cost, are like harvests springing out of land 
which had to be burned black with fire before it 
would yield its increase. 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 20/ 


XIII. 

TTETTY first entered the village of St. Mary’s 
at sunset. The chapel bell was ringing for 
the Angelus, and as the nondescript little vehicle, 
half diligence half coach, crept through the sandy 
streets, Hetty, looking eagerly out, saw men, 
women, and children falling on their knees 
by the road-side. She recollected having noted 
this custom when she was in St. Mary’s before: 
then it had seemed to her senseless mummery; 
now it seemed beautiful. Hetty had just come 
through dark places, in which she had wanted 
help from God more than she had ever in her 
life wanted it; and these evident signs of faith, 
of an established relation between earth and 
heaven, fell most gratefully upon her aching 
heart. The village of St. Mary’s is a mere hand¬ 
ful of houses, on a narrow stretch of sandy plain, 
lying between two forests of firs. Many years 
ago, hunters, finding in the depths of these forests 
springs of great medicinal value, made a little 




208 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


clearing about them, and built there a tew rough 
shanties to which they might at any time resort 
for the waters. Gradually, the fame of the 
waters was noised abroad, and drew settlers to 
the spot. The clearing was widened; houses 
were built; a village grew up ; line after line, as 
a new street was needed, the forests were cut 
down, but remained still a solid, dark-green wall 
and background to the east and the west. On the 
outskirts of the village, in the edge of the west¬ 
ern forest, stood the Roman Catholic chapel, — a 
low wooden building, painted red, and having a 
huge silver cross on the top. 

At the moment of Hetty’s arrival, a burial ser¬ 
vice was just about to take place in this little 
chapel, and the procession was slowly approach¬ 
ing : the priest walking in front, lifting up a 
high gilt crucifix; a little white-robed acolyte 
carrying holy water in a silver basin ; a few Sis¬ 
ters of Charity with their long black gowns and 
flapping white bonnets ; behind these the weep¬ 
ing villagers, bearing the coffin on a rude sort of 
litter. As Hetty saw this procession, she was 
seized with an irresistible desire to join it. She 
was the only passenger in the diligence, and the 
door was locked. She called to the driver, and 
at last succeeded in making him hear, and also 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 209 


understand that she wished to be set down im¬ 
mediately : she would walk on to the inn. She 
wished first to go into the church. The driver was 
a good Catholic ; very seriously he said : “ It is 
bad luck to say one’s prayers while there is going 
on the mass for the dead ; there is another chapel 
which Madame would find less sad at this hour. 
It is only a short distance farther on.” 

But Hetty reiterated her request; and the 
driver, shrugging his shoulders, and saying in an 
altered tone : 

“As Madame pleases ; it is all the same to 
me: nevertheless, it is bad luck; ” assisted her 
to alight. 

The procession had just entered the church. 
Dim lights twinkled on the altar, and a smell of 
incense filled the place. Hetty fell on her knees 
with the rest, and prayed for those she had left 
behind her. Her prayer was simple and short, 
repeated many times : “ Oh God, make them 
happy! make them happy ! ” When the mass 
was over, Hetty waited near the door, and 
watched anxiously to see if the priest were the 
same whom her father had known so well twenty 
years before. Yes, it was — no — could this be 
Father Antoine ? This fat, red-faced, jovial- 
looking old man ? Father Antoine had been 
14 



210 


HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


young, slender and fair ; but there was no mis¬ 
taking the calm and serious hazel eyes. It was 
Father Antoine, but how changed ! 

“ If I have changed as much as that,” thought 
Hetty, “he’ll never believe I am I ; and I dare 
say I have. Dear me, what a frightful thing is 
this old age ! ” 

Hetty had resolved, in the outset, that she 
would take Father Antoine into her confidence. 
She knew the sacredness of secrecy in which 
Roman Catholic priests are accustomed to hold 
all confessions made to them. She felt that her 
secret would be too heavy to bear unshared, 
and that times might arise when she would 
need advice or help from one knowing all the 
truth. 

Early the next morning, she went to Father 
Antoine’s house. The good old man was at 
work in his garden. His little cottage was sur¬ 
rounded by beds which were gay with flowers 
from June till November. Nothing was left in 
bloom now, except asters and chrysanthemums : 
but there was no flower, not even his July carna¬ 
tions, in which he took such pride, as in his 
chrysanthemums. As he heard the little gate 
shut, he looked up; saw that it was a stranger; 
and came forward to meet her, bearing in his 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


211 


hand one great wine-colored chrysanthemum 
blossom, as large as a blush rose: 

“ Is it to see me, daughter ? ” he said, with his 
inalienable old French courtesy. Father Antoine 
had come of a race which had noble blood in 
its veins. His ancestry had worn swords, and 
lived at courts, and Antoine Ladeau never once, 
in his half century of work in these Canadian 
forests, forgot that fact. Hetty looked him full 
in the face, and colored scarlet, before she began 
to speak. 

“ You do not remember me,” she said. 

Father Antoine shook his head. “It is that 
I see so many faces each year,” he replied apolo¬ 
getically, “ that it is not possible to remember ; ” 
and he gazed earnestly into Hetty’s expressive 
face. 

“ It is twenty years since I was here,” Hetty 
continued. She felt a great longing that Father 
Antoine should recollect her. It would seem to 
make her task easier. 

A reminiscence dawned on the priest’s mind. 
“ Twenty years ?” he said, “ah, but that is long ! 
we were both young then. Is it — ah, is it pos¬ 
sible that it is the daughter with the father that 
I see ? ” Father Antoine had never forgotten 
the beautiful relation between Hetty and her 
father. 



212 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“Yes, I came with my father: you knew him 
very well,” replied Hetty, “and I always thought 
then that, if I had any trouble, I would like to 
have you help me.” 

Father Antoine’s merry face clouded over in¬ 
stantly. “ And have you trouble, my daughter ? 
If the good God permits that I help you, I shall 
be glad. I had a love for your father. He is 
no longer alive, or you would not be in trouble; ’ 
and, leading Hetty into his little study, Father 
Antoine sat down opposite her, and said: 

“Tell me, my daughter.” 

Hetty’s voice trembled, and tears filled hei 
eyes: sympathy was harder to bear than loneli¬ 
ness. The story was hard to tell, but she told 
it, without pause, without reserve. Father 
Antoine’s face grew stern as she proceeded. 
When she ceased speaking, he said: 

“ My daughter, you have sinned ; sinned griev¬ 
ously : you must return to your husband. You 
have violated a holy sacrament of the Church. I 
command you to return to your husband.” 

Hetty stared at him in undisguised wonder. 
At last she said: 

“ Why do you speak to me like that, sir ? I 
can obey no man: only my own conscience is 
my law. I will never return to my husband.” 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


213 


“ The Church is the conscience of all her err¬ 
ing children,” replied Father Antoine, “and dis¬ 
obedience is at the peril of one’s soul. I lay it 
upon you, as the command of the Church, that 
you return, my daughter. You have sinned most 
grievously.” 

“Oh,” said Hetty, with apparent irrelevance. 
“ I understand now. You took me for a Catholic.” 

It was Father Antoine’s turn to stare. 

“ Why then, if you are not, came you to me ? ” 
he said sternly. “ I am here only as priest.” 

Hetty clasped her hands, and said pleadingly: 

“ Oh no! not only as priest: you are a good 
man. My father always said so. We were not 
Catholics; and I could not be of any other re¬ 
ligion than my father’s, now he is dead,” (here 
Hetty unconsciously touched a chord in Antoine 
Ladeau’s breast, which gave quick response): 
“but I recollected how he trusted you, and I said, 
if I can hide myself in that little village, Father 
Antoine will be good to me for my father’s sake. 
But you must not tell me to go back to my home : 
no one can judge about that but me. The thing 
I have done is best: I shall not go back. And, 
if you will not keep my secret and be my friend, 
I will go away at once and hide myself in some 
other place still farther away, and will ask no 
one again to be my friend, ever till I die! ” 




214 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


Father Antoine was perplexed. All the blood 
of ancient knighthood which was in his veins 
was stirred with chivalrous desire to help Hetty: 
but, on the other hand, both as man and as priest, 
he felt that she had committed a great wrong, 
and that he could not even appear to countenance 
it. He studied Hetty’s face : in spite of its 
evident marks of pain, it was as indomitable as 
rock. 

“You have the old Huguenot soul, my daugh¬ 
ter,” he said. “Antoine Ladeau knows better 
than to try to cause you to swerve from the path 
you have chosen. But the good God can give 
you light: it may be that he has directed you 
here to find it in his true Church. Be sure that 
your father was a good Catholic at heart.” 

“ Oh, no! he wasn’t,” exclaimed Hetty, im¬ 
petuously. “ There was nothing he disliked so 
much as a Catholic. He always said you were 
the only Catholic he ever saw that he could 
trust.” 

Father Antoine’s rosy face turned rosier. Pie 
was not used among his docile Canadians to anv 
such speech as this. The unvarnished fashions 
of New England honesty grated on his ear. 

“ It is not well for men of one religion to rail 
at the men of another,” he said gravely. “ I 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 215 


doubt not, there are those whom the Lord 
loves in all religions; but there is but one 
true Church.” 

“Forgive me,” said Hetty, in a meeker tone. 
“ I did not mean to be rude : but I thought I 
ought not to let you have such a mistaken idea 
about father. Oh, please, be my friend, Father 
Antoine ! ” 

Father Antoine was silent for a time. Never 
had he been so sorely perplexed. The priest and 
the man were arrayed against each other. 

Presently he said : 

“ What is it that you would have me do, my 
daughter ? I do not see that there is any thing ; 
since you have so firm a will and acknowledge 
not the Church.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Hetty, perceiving that he re¬ 
lented, “ there is not any thing that I want 
you to do, exactly. I only want to feel that 
there is one person who knows all about me, 
and will keep my secret, and is willing to be 
my friend. I shall not want any help about 
any thing, unless it is to get work; but I sup¬ 
pose they always want nurses here. There 
will be plenty to do.” 

“ Daughter, I will keep your secret,” said 
Father Antoine, solemnly: “ about that you 



216 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


need have had no fear. No man of my race 
has ever betrayed a trust; and I will be your 
friend, if you need aught that I can do, while 
you choose to live in this place. But I shall 
pray daily to the good God to open your eyes, 
and make you see that you are living in heinous 
sin each day that you live away from your hus¬ 
band ; ” and Father Antoine rose with the 
involuntary habit of the priest of dismissing a 
parishioner when there was no more needful to 
be said. Hetty took her leave with a feeling 
of meek gratitude, hitherto unknown in her 
bosom. Spite of Father Antoine’s disapproval, 
spite of his arbitrary Romanism, she trusted 
and liked him. 

“ It is no matter if he does think me wrong,” 
she said to herself. “ That needn’t disturb me 
if I know I am right. I think he is wrong to 
pray to the Virgin and the saints.” 

Hetty had brought with her a sum of money 
more than sufficient to buy a little cottage, and 
fit it up with all needful comforts. She had no 
sentimental dispositions towards deprivation and 
wretchedness. All her plannings looked toward 
a useful, cheery, comfortable life. Among her 
purchases were gardening utensils, which she 
could use herself, and seeds and shrubs suited 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


217 


to the soil of St. Mary’s. Strangely enough, the 
only cottage which she could find at all adapted 
to her purpose was one very near Father An¬ 
toine’s, and almost precisely like it. It stood in 
the edge of the forest, and had still left in its 
enclosure many of the stumps of recently felled 
trees. All Hetty’s farmer’s instincts revived in 
full force ; and, only a few days after Father 
Antoine’s conversation with her, he found her 
one morning superintending the uprooting of 
these stumps, and making preparations for grad¬ 
ing the land. As he watched her active move¬ 
ments, energetic tones, and fresh open face, he fell 
into a maze of wondering thought This was no 
morbid sentimentalist; no pining, heart-broken 
woman. Except that truthfulness was stamped on 
every lineament of Hetty’s countenance, Father 
Antoine would have doubted her story; and, ex¬ 
cept that her every act showed such vigorous com¬ 
mon sense, he would have doubted her sanity. 
As it was, his perplexity deepened ; so also did 
his interest in her. It was impossible not to 
admire this brisk, kindly, outspoken woman, who 
already moved about in the village with a certain 
air of motherly interest in every thing and every¬ 
body ; had already begun to “ help ” in her own 
sturdy fashion, and had already won the good 
will of old and young. 



218 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ The good God will surely open her eyes in 
his own time,” thought Father Antoine, and in 
his heart he pondered much what a good thing 
it would be, if, when that time came, Hetty could 
be persuaded to become the Lady Superior of the 
Convent of the Bleeding Heart, only a few miles 
from St. Mary’s. “ She is born for an abbess,” 
he said to himself: “ her will is like the will of a 
man, but she is full of succor and tender offices. 
She would be a second Angelique, in her fervor 
and zeal.” And the good old priest said rosaries 
full of prayers for Hetty, night and day. 

There were two “ Houses of Cure ” in St. 
Mary’s, both under the care of skilful physicians, 
who made specialties of treatment with the waters 
of the springs. One of these physicians was a 
Roman Catholic, and employed no nurses except 
the Sisters from the Convent of the Bleeding 
Heart. They came in turn, in bands of six or 
eight ; and stayed three months at a time. In 
the other House, under the care of an English 
physician, nurses were hired without reference 
to their religion. As soon as Hetty’s house was 
all in order, and her shrubs and trees set out, she 
went one morning to this House, and asked to 
see the physician in charge. With character¬ 
istic brevity, she stated that she had come to St 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


219 


Mary’s to earn her living as a nurse, and would 
like to secure a situation. The doctor looked at 
her scrutinizingly. 

“ Have you ever nursed ? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ What do you know about it then ? ” 

“ I have seen a great many sick people.” 

“ How was that ? ” 

Hetty hesitated, but with some confusion re¬ 
plied : 

“ My husband was a doctor, and I often went 
with him to see his patients.” 

“ You are a widow then ? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

" What then ? ” said the physician, severely. 

Poor Hetty ! She rose to her feet; but, rec¬ 
ollecting that she had no right to be indignant, 
sat down, and replied in a trembling voice: 

“ I cannot tell you, sir, any thing about my 
trouble. I have come here to live, and I want 
to be a nurse.” 

“ Father Antoine knows me,” she added, with 
dignity. 

Father Antoine’s name was a passport. Doc¬ 
tor Macgowan had often wished that he could 
have all his nurses from the convent. 

“ You are a Catholic, then ? ” he said. 




220 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ No, indeed ! ” exclaimed Hetty, emphatically. 
“ I am nothing of the sort.” 

“ How is it that you mention Father Antoine, 
then ? ” 

“ He knew my father well, and me also, years 
ago ; and he is the only friend I have here. ” 

Dr. Macgowan had an Englishman’s instinc¬ 
tive dislike of unexplained things and myste¬ 
rious people. But Hetty’s face and voice were 
better than pedigrees and certificates. Her con¬ 
fident reference to Father Antoine was also 
enough to allay any immediate uneasiness, and, 
“ for the rest, time will show,” thought the doc¬ 
tor ; and, without any farther delay, he engaged 
Hetty as one of the day nurses in his estab¬ 
lishment. In after years Dr. Macgowan often 
looked back to this morning, and thought, with 
the sort of shudder with which one looks back 
on a danger barely escaped: 

“ Good God! what if I had let that woman 
go ? 

All Hetty’s native traits especially adapted 
her to the profession of nursing ; and her superb 
physical health was of itself a blessing to every 
sick man or sick woman with whom she came 
in contact. Before she had been in Dr. Mac- 
gowan’s house one week, all the patients had 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 221 


learned to listen in the morning for her step and 
her voice : they all wanted her, and begged to 
be put under her charge. 

“ Really, Mrs. Smailli, I shall have to cut you 
up into parcels,” said the doctor one day: “there 
is not enough of you to go round. You have a 
marvellous knack at making sick people like you. 
Did you really never nurse before ? ” 

“ Not with my hands and feet,” replied Hetty, 
“ but I think I have always been a nurse at 
heart. I have always been so well that to be 
sick seems to me the most dreadful thing in the 
world. I believe it is the only trouble I couldn’t 
bear.” 

“You do not look as if you had ever had any 
very hard trouble of any kind,” said the doctor 
in a light tone, but watching keenly the effect 
of his words. 

Dr. Macgowan was beginning to be tor¬ 
mented by a great desire to know more in 
regard to his new nurse. Father Antoine’s 
guarded replies to all his inquiries about her 
had only stimulated his curiosity. 

“ She is a good woman. You may trust her 
with all your house,” Father Antoine had said ; 
and had told the doctor that he had known both 
her and her father twenty years ago. More than 



222 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


this he would not say, farther than to express 
the opinion that she would live and die in St. 
Mary’s, and devote herself to her work so long 
as she lived. 

“ She has for it a grand vocation, as we say.” 

Father Antoine exclaimed, “ A grand voca¬ 
tion ! Ah ! if we but had her in our convent! ” 

“You’ll never get her there as long as I’m 
alive, Father Antoine! ” Dr. Macgowan had re¬ 
plied. “ You may count upon that. ” 

When Dr. Macgowan said to Hetty: 

“ You do not look as if you had ever had any 
very hard trouble of any kind,” Hetty looked in 
his face eagerly, and answered : 

“ Do I not, really ? I am so thankful, doc¬ 
tor ! I have always had such a dread of looking 
woe-begone, and making everybody around me 
uncomfortable. I think that’s a sin, if one can 
possibly help it.” 

And by no sudden surprise of remark or 
question, could the doctor ever come any nearer 
to Hetty’s trouble than this. Her words always 
glanced off from direct personal issues, as sub- 
tlely and successfully as if she had been a prac¬ 
tised diplomatist. Sometimes these perpetual 
evadings and non-committals seemed to Dr. 
Macgowan like art; but they were really the 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 223 


very simplicity of absolute unselfishness ; and, 
gradually, as he came to perceive and under¬ 
stand this, he came to have a reverence for 
Hetty. He began to be ashamed of the curi 
osity he had felt as to the details of the sorrow 
which had driven her to this refuge of isolation 
and hard work. He began to feel about her as 
Father Antoine did, that there was a certain 
sacredness in her vocation which almost de¬ 
manded a recognition of title, an investiture of 
office. Hetty would have been astonished, and 
would have very likely laughed, had she known 
with what a halo of sentiment her daily life was 
fast being surrounded in the minds of people. 
To her it was simply a routine of good, whole¬ 
some work; of a kind for which she was best 
fitted, and which enabled her to earn a com¬ 
fortable living most easily to herself, and most 
helpfully to others ; and left her “ less time to 
think,” as she often said to herself, “ than any 
thing else I could possibly have done.” “ Time 
to think” was the one thing Hetty dreaded. As 
resolutely as if they were a sin, she strove to 
keep out of her mind all reminiscences of her 
home, all thoughts of her husband, of Raby. 
Whenever she gave way to them, she was un¬ 
fitted for work ; and, therefore, her conscience 



224 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


said they were wrong. While she was face to 
face with suffering ones, and her hands were 
busy in ministering to their wants, such 
thoughts never intruded upon her. It was 
literally true that, in such hours, she never 
recollected that she was any other than Hibba 
Smailli, the nurse. But, when her day’s work 
was done, and she went home to the little 
lonely cottage, memories flocked in at the si¬ 
lent door, shut themselves in with her, and 
refused to be banished. Hence she formed the 
habit of lingering in the street, of chatting 
with the villagers on their door-steps, playing 
with the children, and often, when there was 
illness in any of the houses, going into them, 
and volunteering her services as nurse. 

The St. Mary’s people were, almost without 
exception, of French descent, and still kept up 
many of the old French customs of out-door 
fetes and ceremonies. Hetty found their joy¬ 
ous, child-like ways and manners singularly 
attractive and interesting. After the grim 
composure, and substantial, reflective methods 
of her New England life, the abandon and 
unthinkingness of these French-Canadians were 
bewildering and delightful to her. 

“ The whole town is every night like a Sun, 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 225 


day-school picnic in our country/’ she said 
once to Father Antoine. “ What children all 
these people are ! ” 

“Yes, daughter, it is so,” replied the priest ; 
“and it is well. Does not our good Lord say 
that we cannot enter into His kingdom except 
we become as little children ? ” 

“Yes, I know,” replied Hetty ; “but I don’t 
believe this is exactly what he meant, do 
you ? ” 

“A part of what he meant,” answered the 
priest; “ not all. First, docility ; and, second, 
joy : that is what the Church teaches.” 

“Your Church is better than ours in that re 
spect,” said Hetty candidly: “ ours doesn’t teach 
joy; it is pretty much all terror.” 

“ Should a child know terror of its mother ?” 
asked Father Antoine. “The Church is mother, 
and the Holy Virgin is mother. Ah, daughter ! 
it will be a glad day when I see you in the beau¬ 
tiful sheltering arms.” 

Tears sometimes came to Hetty’s eyes at such 
words as these ; and good Father Antoine went 
with renewed fervor to his prayers for her con¬ 
version. 

In the centre of the village was a square 
laid out in winding paths, and surrounded by fir 
*5 



226 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


trees. In the middle of this square was a great 
stone basin, in which a spring perpetually bubbled 
up ; the basin had a broad brim, on which the 
villagers sat when they came of an evening to 
fill jugs and bottles with the water. On a bright 
summer night, the circle would often widen 
and widen, by men throwing themselves on 
the ground; children toddling from knee to 
knee ; groups standing in eager talk here and 
there, until it seemed as if the whole village 
were gathered around the spring. These were 
the times when all the village affairs were dis¬ 
cussed, and all the village gossip retailed from 
neighbor to neighbor. The scene was as gay 
and picturesque as you might see in a little 
town of Brittany ; and the jargon of the Cana¬ 
dian patois much more confusing than any dia¬ 
lect one would hear on French soil. Hetty’s 
New England tongue utterly refused to learn 
this new mode of speech ; but her quick and 
retentive ear soon learned its meanings suffi¬ 
ciently to follow the people in their talk. She 
often made one of this evening circle at the 
spring, and it was a pleasant sight to see the 
quick stir of welcome with which her approach 
was observed. 

“ Here comes the good Aunt Hibba from the 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 22 7 


Doctor’s House,” and mothers would push chil¬ 
dren away, and gossips would crowd, and men 
would stand up, all to make room for Hetty: 
then they would gather about her, and those who 
could speak English would translate for those 
who could not ; and everybody would have 
something to tell her. It was an odd thing 
that lovers sought her more than any one else. 
Many a quarrel Aunt Hibba’s good sense healed 
over; and many a worthless fellow was sent about 
his business, as he deserved to be, because Aunt 
Hibba took his sweetheart in hand, and made her 
see the rights of things. If a traveller, strolling 
about St. Mary’s of a June night, had come upon 
these chattering groups, and seen how they cen¬ 
tred around the sturdy, genial-faced woman, in a 
straight gray gown and a close white cap, he would 
have been arrested by the picture at once ; and 
have wondered much who and what Hetty could 
be: but if you had told him that she was 
a farmer’s daughter from Northern New Eng¬ 
land, he would have laughed in your face, and 
said, “ Nonsense ! she belongs to some of the 
Orders.” Very emphatically would he have said 
this, if it had chanced to be on one of the even¬ 
ings when Father Antoine was walking by 
Hetty’s side. Father Antoine knew her custom 



228 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


of lingering at the great spring, and sometimes 
walked down there at sunset to meet her, to 
observe her talk with the villagers, and to walk 
home with her later. Nothing could be stronger 
proof of the reverence in which the whole vil* 
lage held Hetty, than the fact that it seemed 
to them all the most fitting and natural thing 
that she and Father Antoine should stand side 
by side speaking to the people, should walk 
away side by side in earnest conversation with 
each other. If any man had ventured upon a 
jest or a ribald word concerning them, a dozen 
quick hands would have given him a plunge head¬ 
foremost into the great stone basin, which was 
the commonest expression of popular indignation 
in St. Mary’s ; a practice which, strangely enough, 
did not appear to interfere with anybody’s relish 
of the waters. 

Father Antoine had an old servant woman, 
Marie, who had lived in the Ladeau family since 
before he was born. She had been by the death¬ 
bed of his mother, his father, his grandmother, 
and of an uncle who had died at some German 
watering-place : wherever a Ladeau was in any 
need of service, thither hasted Marie; and if the 
need were from illness, Marie was all the happier; 
to lie like a hound on the floor all night, and watch 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 229 


by a sick and suffering Ladeau, was to Marie 
joy. When the young Antoine had set out for 
the wildernesses of North America, Marie had 
prayed to be allowed to come with him ; and 
when he refused she had wept till she fell ill. 
At the last moment he relented, and bore the 
poor creature on board ship, wondering within 
himself if he would be able to keep her alive in 
the forests. But as soon as there was work to do 
for him she revived ; and all these years she 
had kept his house, and cared for him as if he 
were her son. From the day of Hetty’s first 
arrival, old Marie had adopted her into her affec¬ 
tions : no one, not born a Ladeau, ever had won 
such liking from Marie. Much to Hetty’s em 
barrassment, whenever she met her, she insisted 
on kissing her hand, after the fashion of the 
humble servitors of great houses in France. 
Probably, in all these long years of solitary ser¬ 
vice with Father Antoine, Marie had pined for 
the sight of some one of her own sex, to whom 
she could give allegiance, for she was fond of 
telling long stories about the beautiful ladies 
of the house of Ladeau; and how she had 
attired them for balls, and had seen them ride 
away with cavaliers. There was neither splen¬ 
dor nor beauty in Hetty to attract Marie’s fancy; 




230 HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


but Marie had a religious side to her nature, al* 
most as strong as the worldly and passionate one. 
She saw in Hetty’s labors an exaltation of devo¬ 
tion which reminded her of noble ladies who 
had done penances and taken pilgrimages in her 
own country. Father Antoine’s friendship for 
Hetty, so unlike any thing Marie had seen him 
feel towards any woman he had met in these 
wilds, also stimulated her fancy. 

“ Ah ! but it is good that he has at last a 
friend to whom he may speak as a Ladeau should 
speak. May the saints keep her ! she has the 
good heart of one the Virgin loves,” said Marie, 
and many a candle did she buy and keep burning 
on the convent’s shrines for Hetty’s protection 
and conversion. 

One night Marie overheard Father Antoine 
say to Hetty, as he bade her good-night at the 
garden gate : 

“ My daughter, you look better and younger 
every day.” 

“ Do I ? ” replied Hetty, cheerfully : “ that’s an 
odd thing for a woman so old as I am. My 
birthday is next month. I shall be forty-six.” 

“Youth is not a matter of years,” replied 
Father Antoine. “ I have known very young 
women much older than you.” 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 231 


Hetty smiled sadly, and walked on. Father 
Antoine’s words had given her a pang. They 
were almost the same words which Dr. Eben had 
said to her again and again, when she had 
reasoned with him against his love for her, a 
woman so much older than himself. “ That is 
all very well to say,” thought Hetty in her matter- 
of-fact way, “ and no doubt there are great dif¬ 
ferences in people: but old age is old age, soften 
it how you will; and youth is youth ; and youth 
is beautiful, and old age is ugly. Father An¬ 
toine knows it just as well as any man. Don’t I 
see, good as he is, every day of my life, with 
what a different look he blesses the fair young 
maidens from that with which he blesses the 
wrinkled old women. There is no use mind¬ 
ing it. It can’t be helped. But things might as 
well be called by their right names.” 

Marie sat down on a garden bench, and re¬ 
flected. So the good Aunt Hibba’s birthday 
was next month, and there would be nobody to 
keep it for her in this strange country. “ How 
can we find out ? ” thought Marie, “ and give her 
a pleasure.” 

In summer weather, Father Antoine took his 
simple dinners on the porch. It was cool there, 
and the vines and flowers gave to the little nook 



232 HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY . 


a certain air of elegance which Father Antoine 
enjoyed without recognizing why. On this 
evening Marie lingered after she had removed 
the table. She fidgeted about, picking up a leaf 
here and there, and looking at her master, till he 
perceived that she had something on her mind. 

“ What is it, Marie ? ” he asked. 

“ Oh, M ’sieur Antoine ! ” she replied, “ it is 
about the good Aunt Hibba’s birthday. Could 
you not ask her when is the day ? and it should 
be a fite day, if we only knew it; there is not 
one that would not be glad to help make it beau¬ 
tiful.” 

“ Eh, my Marie, what is it then that you plan ? 
The people in the country from which she comes 
have no fetes . It might be that she would think 
it a folly,” answered Father Antoine, by no 
means sure that Hetty would like such a testi¬ 
monial. 

“ All the more, then, she would like it,” said 
Marie. “ I have watched her. It is delight to 
her when they dance about the spring, and she 
has the great love for flowers.” 

So Father Antoine, by a little circumlocution, 
discovered when the birthday would come, and 
told Marie; and Marie began straightway to go 
back and forth in the village, with a pleased air 
of mystery. 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 233 


XIV. 

' I "'HE birthday fell on a day in June. It so 
happened that Hetty was later than usual 
in leaving her patients that night; and her pur¬ 
pose had been to go home by the nearest way, 
and not pass through the Square. The villagers 
had feared this, and had forestalled her ; at the 
turning where she would have left the main 
road, she found waiting for her the swiftest- 
footed urchin in all St. Mary’s, little Pierre Mi¬ 
chaud. The readiest witted, too, and of the 
freest tongue, and he was charged to bring Aunt 
Hibba by the way of the Square, but by no 
means to tell her the reason. 

“ And if she say me nay, what is it that I am 
to tell her, then ? ” urged Pierrre. 

“ Art thou a fool, Pierre ? ” said his mother, 
sharply. “ Thou ’rt ready enough with excuses, 
I ’ll warrant, for thy own purposes : invent one 
now. It matters not, so that thou bring her 
here.” And Pierre, reassured by this maternal 




234 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


carte blanche for the best lie he could think of, 
raced away, first tucking securely into a niche of 
the stone basin the little pot with a red carna¬ 
tion in it which he had brought for his contribu¬ 
tion to the birthday fete. 

When Hetty saw Pierre waiting at the corner, 
she exclaimed : 

“ What, Pierre, loitering here ! The sunset 
is no time to idle. Where are your goats ? ” 

“ Milked an hour ago, Tantibba,* and in the 
shed,” replied Pierre, with a saucy air of having 
the best of the argument, “ and my mother waits 
in the Square to speak to thee as thou passest.” 

“ I was not going that way, to-night,” replied 
Hetty. “ I am in haste. What does she wish ? 
Will it not do as well in the morning ? ” 

Alarmed at this suggestion, young Pierre 
made a master-stroke of invention, and replied 
on the instant: 

“Nay, Bo Tantibba,! that it will not; for it 
is the little sister of Jean Cochot which has been 
badly bitten by a fierce dog, and the mother has 
her there in her arms waiting for thee to dress 

* “ Tante Hibba.” 

t The French Canadians often contract “ bonne ” and 
“ bon ” in this way. “ Bo Tantibba ” is contraction for 
M Bonne Tante Hibba.” 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 235 


her wounds. Oh, but the blood doth run ! and 
the little one’s cries would pierce thy heart! ” 
And the rascally Pierre pretended to sob. 

“ Eh, eh, how happened that ? ” said Hetty, 
hurrying on so swiftly towards the Square that 
even Pierre’s brisk little legs could hardly keep 
up with her. Pierre’s inventive faculty came to 
a halt. 

“ Nay, that I do not know,” he replied ; “ but 
the people are all gathered around her, and they 
all cry out for thee by thy name. There is none 
like thee, Tantibba, they say, if one has a wound.” 

Hetty quickened her pace to a run. As she 
entered the Square, she saw such crowds around 
the basin that Pierre’s tale seemed amply cor¬ 
roborated. Pressing in at the outer edge of the 
circle, she exclaimed, looking to right and left, 
“ Where is the child ? Where is M&re Michaud ? ” 
Every one looked bewildered ; no one answered. 
Pierre, with an upward fling of his agile legs, 
disappeared to seek his carnation ; and Hetty 
found herself, in an instant more, surrounded 
by a crowd of children, each in its finest clothes, 
and each bearing a small pot with a flowering- 
plant in it. 

“For thee ! For thee ! The good saints bless 
the day thou wert born ! ” they all cried, press¬ 
ing nearer, and lifting high their little pots. 



236 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ See my carnation ! ” shouted Pierre, strug¬ 
gling nearer to Hetty. “ And my jonquil! ” 
“ And my pansies! ” “ And this forget-me- 

not ! ” cried the children, growing more and 
more excited each moment; while the chorus, 
“For thee! For thee! The good saints bless 
the day thou wert born! ” rose on all sides. 

Hetty was bewildered. 

“ What does all this mean ? ” she said help¬ 
lessly. 

Then, catching Pierre by the shoulder so sud¬ 
denly that his red carnation tottered and nearly 
fell, she exclaimed: 

“You mischievous boy! Where is the child 
that was bitten ? Have you told me a lie ? ” 

At this moment, Pierre’s mother, pushing 
through the crowd, exclaimed: 

“ Ah! but thou must forgive him. It was I 
that sent him to lie to thee, that thou shouldst 
not go home. We go with thee, to do our honor 
to the day on which thou wert born ! ” 

And so saying, Mere Michaud turned, and 
swinging high up in the air one end of a long 
wreath of feathery ground-pine, led off the pro¬ 
cession. The rest followed in preconcerted order, 
till some forty men and women, all linked to¬ 
gether by the swinging loops of the pine wreath, 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 237 


were in line. Then they suddenly wheeled and 
surrounded the bewildered Hetty, and boie her 
with them. The children, carrying their little 
pots of flowers, ran along shouting and scream¬ 
ing with laughter to see the good “ Tantibba ” 
so amazed. Louder and louder rose the chorus: 

“ For thee ! For thee ! May the good saints 
bless the day thou wert born! ” 

Hetty was speechless : her cheeks flushed. 
She looked from one to the other, and all she 
could do was to clasp her hands and smile. If 
she had spoken, she would have cried. When 
they came to Father Antoine’s cottage, there he 
stood waiting at the gate, wearing his Sunday 
robes, and behind him stood Marie, also in her 
best, and with her broad silver necklace on, 
which the villagers had only two or three times 
seen her wear. Marie had her hands behind her, 
and was trying to hold out her narrow black pet¬ 
ticoat on each side to hide something. Myste¬ 
rious and plaintive noises struggled through the 
woollen folds, and, at each sound, Marie stamped 
her foot and exclaimed angrily : 

“ Bah ! thou silly beast, be quiet! Wilt thou 
spoil all our sport ? ” 

The procession halted before the house, and 
Father Antoine advanced, bearing in his hands 




238 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


a gay wreath of flowers. The people had wished 
that this should be placed on Hetty’s head, but 
Father Antoine had persuaded them to waive 
this part of the ceremony. He knew well that 
this would be more than Hetty could bear. 
Holding the wreath in his hands, therefore, he 
addressed a few words to Hetty, and then took 
his place by her side. Now was Marie’s moment 
of joy. Springing to one side as quickly as her 
rheumatic old joints would permit, she revealed 
what she had been trying to hide behind her 
scant petticoat. It was a white lamb, decorated 
from ears to tail with knots of ribbon and with 
flowers. The poor little thing tugged hard at 
the string by which it was held, and shook its 
pretty head in restless impatience under its load 
of finery, and bleated piteously : but for all that it 
was a very pretty sight; and the broken English 
with which Marie, on behalf of the villagers, 
presented the little creature to Hetty, was pret¬ 
tier still. When they reached Hetty’s gate, all the 
women who had hold of the long pine wreath 
gave their places to men; and, in the twinkling 
of an eye, the lithe vigorous fellows were on the 
fences, on the posts of the porch, nailing the 
wreath in festoons everywhere ; from the gate¬ 
way to the door in long swinging loops, above 




HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 239 


the porch, in festoons over the windows, under 
the eaves, and hanging in long waving ends on 
the walls. Then they hung upon the door the 
crown which Hetty had not worn, and the little 
children set their gay pots of flowers on the 
window-sills and around the porch ; and all was 
a merry hubbub of voices and laughter. Hetty 
grasped Father Antoine by the arm. 

“ Oh, do you speak to them, and thank them 
for me ! I can’t! ” she said ; and Father An¬ 
toine saw tears in her eyes. 

“ But you must speak to them, my daughter,” 
he replied, “ else they will be grieved. They 
cannot understand that you are pleased if you 
say no word. I will speak first till you are more 
calm.” 

When Father Antoine had finished his speech, 
Hetty stepped forward, and looking round on all 
their faces, said: 

“ I do not know how to thank you, friends. 
I never saw any thing like this before, and it 
makes me dumb. All I can say is that you have 
filled my heart with joy, and I feel no more 
a stranger: your village is my home.” 

“ Thanks to thee, then, for that! Thanks to 
thee ! And the good saints bless the day thou 
wert born,” shouted the people, and the little 



240 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


children catching the enthusiasm, and wanting 
to shout something, shouted: “ Bo Tantibba! 
Bo Tantibba! ” till the place rang. Then they 
placed the pet lamb in a little enclosed paddock 
which had been built for him during the day, 
and the children fed him with red clover blossoms 
through the paling; and presently, Father An¬ 
toine considerately led his flock away, saying, — 
“ The good Aunt is weary. See you not that 
her eyes droop, and she has no words ? It is 
now kind that we go away, and leave her to 
rest.” 

As the gay procession moved away crying, 
“ Good-night, good-night! ” Hetty stood on the 
porch and watched them. She was on the point 
of calling them back. A strange dread of being 
left alone seized upon her. Never since she had 
forsaken her home had she felt such a sense of 
loneliness, except when she was crouched under 
the hemlock-trees by the lake. She watched 
till she could no longer see even a fluttering 
motion in the distance. Then she went into the 
house. The silence smote her. She turned and 
went out again, and went to the paddock, where 
the little lamb was bleating. 

“Poor little creature!” she said, “wert thou 
torn from thy mother ? Dost thou pine for one 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 241 


thou see’st not?” She untied it, led it into the 
house, and spread down hay and blankets for it, 
in one corner of her kitchen. The little creature 
seemed cheered by the light and warmth; cuddled 
down and went to sleep. 

Hetty’s heart was full of thoughts. “ Oh! what 
would Eben have said if he could have seen me 
to-night?” “How Raby would have delighted 
in it all! ” “ How long am I to live this strange 

life ? ” “ Can this be really I ? ” “ What has 

become of my old life, of my old self?” Like 
restless waves driven by a wind too powerful 
to be resisted, thoughts and emotions surged 
through Hetty’s breast. She buried her face in 
her hands and wept; wept the first unrestrained 
tears she had wept. Only for a few moments, 
however. Like the old Hetty Gunn of the old life, 
she presently sprang to her feet, and said to 
herself, “ Oh, what a selfish soul I am to be 
spending all my strength this way! I shan’t be 
fit for any thing to-morrow if I go on so.” Then 
she patted the lamb on its head, and said with a 
comforting sense of comradeship in the little 
creature’s presence, “ Good-night, little mother¬ 
less one! Sleep warm,” and then she went to 
bed and slept till morning. 

I have dwelt on the surface details of Hetty’9 
16 



242 HETTY'S Si RANGE HISTORY. 


life at St. Mary’s, and have said little about her 
mental condition and experiences: this is be¬ 
cause I have endeavored to present this part of 
her life, exactly as she lived it, and as she would 
tell it herself. That there were many hours of 
acute suffering; many moments when her cour¬ 
age wellnigh failed ; when she was almost ready 
to go back to her home, fling herself at her hus¬ 
band’s feet, and cry, “ Let me be but as a servant 
in thy house,” — it is not needful to say. 

Hearts answer to hearts, and no heart could 
fail to know that a woman in Hetty’s position 
must suffer keenly and constantly. But this 
story would do great injustice to her, and would 
be essentially false, if it spoke often of, or dwelt 
at any length upon the sufferings which Hetty 
herself never mentioned, and put always away 
from her with an unflinching resolution. Year 
after year, the routine of her days went on as we 
have described; unchanged except that she grew 
more and more into the affections of the villagers 
among whom she came and went, and of the hun¬ 
dreds of ill and suffering men and women whom 
she nursed. She was no nearer becoming a 
Roman Catholic than she had been when she sat 
in the Welbury meeting-house: even Father 
Antoine had given over hoping for her conver- 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 243 


sion ; but her position in St. Mary’s was like the 
position of a Lady Abbess in a religious commu¬ 
nity ; her authority, which rarely took on an au¬ 
thoritative shape, was great; and her influence 
was greater than her authority. In Dr. Mac- 
gowan’s House of Cure, she was second only 
to the doctor himself; and, if the truth were 
told, it might have been said she was second to 
none. 

Patients went away from St. Mary’s every 
year who stoutly ascribed their cure to her, 
and not to the waters nor to the physicians. 
Her straightforward, kindly, common sense was 
a powerful tonic, morally and physically, to 
all invalids whom she nursed. She had no 
tolerance for any weakness which could be 
conquered. She had infinite tenderness for all 
weakness which was inevitable; and her dis¬ 
criminations between the two were always just. 
“ I’d trust more to Mrs. Smailli’s diagnosis of 
any case than I would to my own,” said Dr. 
Macgowan to his fellow-physicians more than 
once. And, when they scoffed at the idea, he 
replied: “ I do not mean in the technicalities of 
specific disease, of course. The recognition of 
those is a matter of specific training; but, in all 
those respects, a physician’s diagnosis may be 



244 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


faultless; and yet he be much mistaken in re¬ 
gard to the true condition of the patient. In 
this finer, subtler diagnosis of general conditions, 
especially of moral conditions, Mrs. Smailli is 
worth more than all the doctors in Canada 
put together. If she says a patient will get well, 
he always does, and vice versa. She knows 
where the real possibility of recuperation lies, 
and detects it often in patients I despair of.” 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY ,i 245 


XV. 

A ND now this story must again pass over a 
period of ten years in the history of Eben 
and Hetty Williams. During all these years, 
Hetty had been working faithfully in St. Ma¬ 
ry’s ; and Dr. Eben had been working faith 
fully in Welbury. Hetty was now fifty-six years 
old. Her hair was white, and clustered round 
her temples in a rim of snowy curls, peeping out 
from under the close lace cap she always wore. 
But the snowy curls were hardly less becoming 
than the golden brown ones had been. Her 
cheeks were still pink, and her lips red. She 
looked far less old for her age at fifty-six than 
she had looked ten years before. 

Dr. Eben, on the other hand, had grown old 
fast. His work had not been to him as com¬ 
plete and healthful occupation as Hetty’s had 
been to her. He had lived more within him¬ 
self ; and he had never ceased to sorrow. His 
sorrow, being for one dead, was without hope ; 




246 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY 


save that intangible hope to which our faith so 
pathetically clings, of the remote and undefined 
possibilities of eternity. Hetty’s sorrow was 
full of hope, being persuaded that all was well 
with those whom she did not see. 

Dr. Eben loved no one warmly or with ab¬ 
sorption. Hetty loved every suffering one to 
whom she ministered. Dr. Eben had never 
ceased living too much in the past. Hetty had 
learned to live almost wholly in the present. 
Hetty had suffered, had suffered intensely; but 
all that she had suffered was as nothing in com¬ 
parison with the sufferings of her husband. 
Moreover, Hetty had kept through all these 
years her superb health. Dr. Eben had had 
severe illnesses, which had told heavily upon 
his strength. From all these things it had 
come to pass, that now he looked older and 
more worn than Hetty. She looked vigorous ; 
he looked feeble; she was still comely, he had 
lost all the fineness of color and outline, which 
had made him at forty so handsome a man. 
He had been growing restless, too, and dis¬ 
contented. 

Raby was away at college; old Caesar and 
Nan had both died, and their places were filled 
by new white servants, who, though they served 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 247 


Dr. Eben well, did not love him. Deacon Little 
had died also, and Jim and Sally had been 
obliged to go back to the old homestead to live, 
to take care of Mrs. Little, who was now a help¬ 
less paralytic. 

“ Gunn’s,” as it was still called, and always 
would be, was no longer the brisk and cheerful 
place which it had once been. The farm was 
slowly falling off, from its master’s lack of in¬ 
terest in details ; and the old stone house had 
come to wear a certain look of desolation. The 
pines met and interlaced their boughs over the 
whole length of the road from the gate to the 
front-door; and, in a dark day, it was like an 
underground passage-way, cold and damp. If 
Hetty could have been transported to the spot, 
how would her heart have ached! How would 
she have seen, in terrible handwriting, the 
record of her mistaken act; the blight which 
her one wrong step had cast, not only upon 
hearts and lives, but even upon the visible face 
of nature. But Hetty did not dream of this. 
Whenever she permitted her fancy to dwell 
upon imaginings of her old home, she saw it 
bright with sunshine, merry with the voices of 
little children : and her husband handsome still, 
and young, walking by the side of a beautiful 
woman, mother of his children. 




24B HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


At last Dr. Eben took a sudden resolution; 
the result, partly, of his restless discontent; 
partly of his consciousness that he was in dan¬ 
ger of breaking down and becoming a chronic 
invalid. He offered “ Gunn’s ” for sale, and 
announced that he was going abroad for some 
years. Spite of the dismay with which this 
news was received throughout the whole coun¬ 
ty, everybody’s second thought was-: “Poor 
fellow ! I’m glad of it. It’s the best thing he 
can do.” 

Hetty’s cousin, Josiah Gunn, the man that 
she had so many years ago predicted would ulti¬ 
mately have the estate, bought it in, outbidding 
the most determined bidders (for “ Gunn’s ” was 
much coveted) ; and paying finally a sum even 
larger than the farm was really worth. Dr. 
Eben was now a rich man, and free. The world 
lay before him. When all was done, he felt a 
strange unwillingness to leave Welbury. The 
travel, the change, which had looked so desira¬ 
ble and attractive, now looked formidable ; and 
he lingered week after week, unable to tear him¬ 
self away from home. One day he rode over 
to Springton, to bid Rachel Barlow good-by. 
Rachel was now twenty-eight years old, and a 
very beautiful woman. Many men had sought 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY . 249 


to marry her, but Dr. Eben’s prediction had been 
realized. Rachel would not marry. Her health 
was perfectly established, and she had been for 
years at the head of the Springton Academy. 
Doctor Eben rarely saw her; but when he did 
her manner had the same child-like docility and 
affectionate gratitude that had characterized it 
when she was seventeen. She had never ceased 
to feel that she owed her life, and more than her 
life, to him : how much more she felt, Dr. Eben 
had never dreamed until this day. When he 
told her that he was going to Europe, she turned 
pale, but said earnestly: 

“ Oh, I am very glad! you have needed the 
change so much. How long will you stay ? ” 

“ I don’t know, Rachel,” he replied sadly. 
“ Perhaps all the rest of my life. I have done 
my best to live here ; but I can’t. It’s no use : 
I can’t bear it. I have sold the place.” 

Rachel’s lips parted, but she did not speak; 
her face flushed scarlet, then turned white ; and, 
without a moment’s warning or possibility of 
staying the tears, she buried her face in her 
hands, and wept convulsively. In the same in¬ 
stant, a magnetic sense of all that this grief 
meant thrilled through Doctor Eben’s every 
nerve. No such thought had ever crossed his 



250 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


mind before. Rachel had never been to him 
any thing but the “ child ” he had first called 
her. Very reverently seeking now to shield 
her womanhood from any after pain of fear, 
lest she might have betrayed her secret, he 
said: 

“ Why, my child ! you must not feel so 
badly about it. I ought not to have spoken so. 
Of course, you must know that my life has been 
a very lonely one, and always must be. But I 
should not give up and go away, simply for that. 
I am not well, and I am quite sure that I need 
several years of a milder climate. I dare say I 
shall be home-sick, and come back after all.” 

Rachel lifted her eyes and looked steadily in 
his. Her tears stopped. The old clairvoyant 
gaze, which he had not seen on her face for 
many years, returned. 

“No. You will never come back,” she said 
slowly. Then, as one speaking in a dream, she 
said still more slowly, and uttering each word 
with difficulty and emphasis: 

“I — do — not — believe — your — wife — is 
— dead.” Much shocked, and thinking that 
these words were merely the utterance of an 
hysterical excitement, Dr. Eben replied: 

“ Not to me, dear child ; she never will be : but 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 25 1 


you must not let yourself be excited in this way. 
You will be ill. I must be your doctor again 
and prescribe for you.” 

Rachel continued to watch him, with the same 
bright and unflinching gaze. He turned from 
her, and, bringing her a glass of water in which 
he had put a few drops from a vial, said in his 
old tone: 

“ Drink this, Rachel.” 

She obeyed in silence ; her eyes drooped ; the 
tension of her whole figure relaxed ; and, with a 
long sigh, she exclaimed : 

“ Oh, forgive me ! ” 

“ There is nothing to forgive, my child,” said 
the doctor, much moved, and, longing to throw 
his arms around her as she sat there, so gentle, 
appealing, beautiful, loving. “Why can I not 
love her ? ” “ What else is there better in life 

for me to do ? ” he thought, but his heart refused. 
Hetty, the lost dead Hetty, stood as much be¬ 
tween him and all other women to-day, as she 
had stood ten years before. 

“ I must go now, Rachel,” he said. “ Good-by.” 

She put her cold hand in his. As he took it, 
by a curious freak of his brain, there flashed 
into his mind the memory of the day when, by 
the side of this fragile white little hand lying 




252 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


in his, Hetty, laughingly, had placed her own, 
broad and firm and brown. The thought of 
that hand of Hetty’s, and her laugh at that 
moment, were too much for him, and he dropped 
Rachel’s hand abruptly, and moved toward the 
door. She gave a low cry: he turned back ; she 
took a step towards him. 

“ I shall never see you again,” she said, taking 
his hand in hers. “ I owe my life to you,” and 
she carried his hand to her lips, and kissed it 
again and again. “ God bless you, child ! Good- 
by ! good-by!” he said. Rachel did not speak, 
and he left her standing there, gazing after him 
with a look on her face which haunted him as 
long as he lived. 

Why Doctor Eben should have resolved to 
sail for England in a Canadian steamer, and 
why, having reached Canada, he should have re¬ 
solved to postpone his voyage, and make a trial 
of the famous springs of St. Mary’s, are mys¬ 
teries hid in that book of Fate whose leaves no 
mortal may turn. We prate in our shallow wis¬ 
dom about causes, but the most that we can trace 
is a short line of incidental occasions. A pam¬ 
phlet which Doctor Eben found in the office of a 
hotel was apparently the reason of his going to 
St. Mary’s ; all the reason so far as he knew, or 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 253 


as any man might know. But that man is to be 
pitied who lives his life out under the impression 
that it is within his own guidance. Only one 
remove from the life of the leaf which the winds 
toss where they list would be such a life as that. 

It was with no very keen interest that Doctor 
Eben arrived in St. Mary’s. He had some faint 
hope that the waters might do him good: but 
he found the sandy stretches and long lines of 
straight firs in Canada very monotonous ; and 
he was already beginning to be oppressed by the 
sense of homelessness. His quiet and domestic 
life had unfitted him for being a wanderer, and 
he was already looking forward to the greater 
excitements of European travel; hoping that 
they would prove more diverting and enter¬ 
taining than he had thus far found travel in 
America. 

He entered St. Mary’s as Hetty had done, just 
at sunset. It was a warm night in June; and, 
after his tea at the little inn, Dr. Eben sauntered 
out listlessly. The sound of merry voices in the 
Square repelled him; unlike Hetty, he shrank 
from strange faces: turning in the direction 
where it seemed stillest, he walked slowly towards 
the woods. He looked curiously at the little red 
chapel, and at Father Antoine’s cottage, now 



254 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


literally imbedded in flowers. Then he paused 
before Hetty’s tiny house. A familiar fragrance 
arrested him; leaning on the paling he looked 
over into the garden, started, and said, under his 
breath : “ How strange! How strange! ” There 
were long straight beds of lavender and balm, 
growing together, as they used to grow in the 
old garden at “ Gunn’s.” Both the balm and 
the lavender were in full blossom ; and the two 
scents mingled and separated and mingled in 
the warm air, like the notes of two instruments 
unlike, yet in harmony. The strong lemon odor 
of the balm, was persistently present like the 
mastering chords of the violoncello, and the fine 
and subtle fragrances from the myriad cells of 
the pale lavender floated above and below, now 
distant, now melting and disappearing, like a 
delicate melody. Dr. Eben was borne away 
from the present, out of himself. He thrust his 
hand through the palings, and gathered a crushed 
handful of the lavender blossoms: eagerly he 
inhaled their perfume. Drawers and chests at 
“ Gunn’s ” had been thick strewn with lavender 
for half a century. All Hetty’s clothes — Hetty 
herself — had been full of the exquisite fragrance. 
The sound of quick pattering steps roused him 
from his reverie. A bare-footed boy was driving 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 255 


a flock of goats past. The child stopped and 
gazed intently at the stranger. 

“ Child, who lives in this little house ? ” said 
Dr. Eben, cautiously hiding his stolen handful 
of lavender. 

“ Tantibba,” replied the boy. 

“ What! ” exclaimed the doctor. “ I don’t un¬ 
derstand you. What is the name ? ” 

“ Tantibba ! Tantibba ! ” the child shouted, 
looking back over his shoulder, as he raced on 
to overtake his goats. “ Bo Tantibba.” “ Some 
old French name I suppose,” thought Dr. Eben: 
“ but, it is very odd about the herbs ; the two 
growing together, so exactly as Hetty used to 
have them ; ” and he walked reluctantly away, car¬ 
rying the bruised lavender blossoms in his hand, 
and breathing in their delicious fragrance. As 
he drew near the inn, he observed on the other 
side of the way a woman hurrying in the opposite 
direction. She had a sturdy thick-set figure, and 
her step, although rapid, was not the step of a 
young person. She wore on her head only a close 
white cap ; and her gray gown was straight and 
scant: on her arm she carried a basket of scarlet 
plaited straw, which made a fine bit cf color 
against the gray and white of her costume. It 
was just growing dusk, and the doctor could not 




256 HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 


distinguish her features. At that moment, a lad 
came running from the inn, and darted across 
the road, calling aloud, “Tantibba ! Tantibba ! ” 
The woman turned her head, at the name, and 
waited till the lad came to her. Dr. Eben stood 
still, watching them. “ So that is Tantibba ? ” 
he thought, “ what can the name be ? ” Presently 
the lad came back with a bunch of long droop¬ 
ing balm-stalks in his hand. 

“ Who was that you spoke to then ? ” asked 
the doctor. 

“ Tantibba! ” replied the lad, hurrying on. 
Dr. Eben caught him by the shoulder. “ Look 
here!” he exclaimed, “just tell me that name 
again. This is the fourth time I’ve heard it to¬ 
night. Is it the woman’s first name or what ? ” 
The lad was a stupid English lad, who had but 
recently come to service in St. Mary’s, and had 
never even thought to wonder what the name 
“ Tantibba,” meant. He stared vacantly for a 
moment, and then said : 

“ Indeed, sir, and I don’t know. She’s never 
called any thing else that I’ve heard.” 

“ Who is she ? what does she do ? ” asked the 
doctor. 

“ Oh, sir! she’s a great nurse, from foreign 
parts : she has a power of healing-herbs in her 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 25 ; 


garden, and she goes each day to the English 
House to heal the sick. There’s nobody like 
her. If she do but lay her hand on one, they do 
say it is a cure.” 

“ She is French, I suppose,” said the doctor; 
thinking to himself, “ Some adventuress, doubt¬ 
less.” 

“ Ay, sir, I think so,” answered the lad; “ but I 
must not stay to speak any more, for the mistress 
waits for this balm to make tea for the cook 
Jean, who is like to have a fever;” and the lad 
disappeared under the low archway of the base¬ 
ment. 

Dr. Eben walked back and forth in front of 
the inn, still crushing in his fingers the lavender 
flowers and inhaling their fragrance. Idly he 
watched “ Tantibba’s ” figure till it disappeared 
in the distance. 

“This is just the sort of place for a tricky 
old French woman to make a fortune in,” he 
said to himself: “these people are simple enough 
to believe any thing; ” and Dr. Eben went to 
his room, and tossed the lavender blossoms down 
on his pillow. 

When he waked in the morning, his first 
thoughts were bewildered: nothing in nature is 
so powerful in association as a perfume. A 
17 




258 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


sound, a sight, is feeble in comparison; the 
senses are ever alert, and the mind is accus¬ 
tomed always to act promptly on their evidence. 
But a subtle perfume, which has been associated 
with a person, a place, a scene, can ever after¬ 
ward arrest us ; can take us unawares, and hold 
us spell-bound, while both memory and knowl¬ 
edge are drugged by its charm. 

Dr. Eben did not open his eyes. In an 
ecstasy of half consciousness he murmured, 
“ Hetty.” As he stirred, his hand came in con¬ 
tact with the withered flowers. Touch was 
more potent than smell. He roused, lifted his 
head, saw the little blossoms now faded and 
gray lying near his cheek ; and saying, “ Oh, I 
remember,” sank back again into a few moments’ 
drowsy reverie. 

The morning was clear and cool, one window 
of the doctor’s room looked east ; the splendor 
of the sunrise shone in and illuminated the 
whole place. While he was dressing, he found 
himself persistently thinking of the strange 
name, “ Tantibba.” “ It is odd how that name 
haunts me,” he thought. “ I wish I could see it 
written: I haven’t the least idea how it is 
spelled. I wonder if she is an impostor. Her 
garden didn’t look like it.” Presently he saun- 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 259 


tered out: the morning stir was just beginning 
in the village. The child to whom he had spoken 
at “Tantibba’s ” gate, the night before, came up, 
driving the same flock of goats. The little fellow, 
as he passed, pulled the ragged tassel of his cap 
in token of recognition of the stranger who had 
accosted him. Without any definite purpose, 
Dr. Eben followed slowly on, watching a pair 
of young kids, who fell behind the flock, frolick¬ 
ing and half-fighting in antics so grotesque that 
they looked more like gigantic grasshoppers 
than like goats. Before he knew how far he 
had walked, he suddenly perceived that he was 
very near “ Tantibba’s ” house. 

“ I ’ll walk on and steal another handful of the 
lavender,” he thought; “and if the old woman’s 
up, perhaps I ’ll get a sight of her. I’d like to 
see what sort of a face answers to that outland¬ 
ish name.” 

As the doctor leaned over the paling, and 
looked again at Hetty’s garden, he saw some¬ 
thing which had escaped his notice before, and 
at which he started again, and muttered — this 
time aloud, and with an expression almost o i 
terror,— “ Good Heavens, if there isn’t a chrys¬ 
anthemum bed too, exactly like ours ! what does 
this mean ? ” Hetty had little thought when sh# 



260 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY 


was laying out her garden, as nearly as possible 
like the garden she had left behind her, that she 
was writing a record which any eye but her own 
would note. 

“ I believe I ’ll go in and see this old French 
woman,” he thought: “ it is such a strange thing 
that she should have just the same flowers 
Hetty had. I don’t believe she’s an adventuress, 
after all.” 

Dr. Eben had his hand on the latch of the 
gate. At that instant, the cottage door opened, 
and “ Tantibba,” in her white cap and gray gown, 
and with her scarlet basket on her arm, appeared 
on the threshold. Dr. Eben lifted his hat cour¬ 
teously, and advanced. 

“ I was just about to take the liberty of knock¬ 
ing at your door, madame,” he said, “ to ask 
if you would give me a few of your lavender 
blossoms.” 

As he began to speak, “ Tantibba’s ” basket fell 
from her hand. As he advanced towards her, 
her eyes grew large with terror, and all color left 
her cheeks. 

“ Why do I terrify her so ? ” thought Dr. 
Eben, quickening his steps, and hastening to 
reassure her, by saying still more gently : 

i: Pray forgive me for intruding. I ” — the 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 261 


words died on his lips : he stood like one stricken 
by paralysis ; his hands falling helplessly by 
his side, and his eyes fixed in almost ghastly 
dread on this gray-haired woman, from whose 
white lips came, in Hetty’s voice, the cry: 

“ Eben ! oh ! Eben ! ” 

Hetty was the first to recover herself. Seeing 
with terror how rigid and pale her husband's 
face had become; how motionless, like one 
turned to stone, he stood — she hastened down 
the steps, and, taking him by the hand, said, in a 
trembling whisper: 

“ Oh, come into the house, Eben.” 

Mechanically he followed her ; she still leading 
him by the hand, like a child. Like a child, or 
rather like a blind man, he sat down in the chair 
which she placed for him. His eyes did not 
move from her face ; but they looked almost like 
sightless eyes. Hetty stood before him, with 
her hands clasped tight. Neither spoke. At 
last Dr. Eben said feebly: 

“ Are you Hetty ? ” 

“ Yes, Eben,” answered Hetty, with a tearless 
sob. He did not speak again: still with a strange 
unseeing look, his eyes roved over her face, her 
figure. Then he reached out one hand and 
touched her gown ; curiously, he lifted the soft 



262 HETTY'S STEAJVGE HISTORY. 


gray serge, and fingered it; then he said 
again : 

“Are you Hetty ? ” 

“ Oh, Eben! dear Eben ! indeed I am,” broke 
forth Hetty. “ Do forgive me. Can’t you ? ” 

“ Forgive you ? ” repeated Dr. Eben, help¬ 
lessly. “ What for ? ” 

“ Oh, my God! he thinks we are both dead : 
what shall I do to rouse him ? ” thought Hetty, 
all the nurse in her coming to the rescue of the 
woman and wife. 

“ For going away and leaving you, Eben,” she 
said in a clear resolute voice. “ I wasn’t drowned. 
I came away.” 

Dr. Eben smiled ; a smile which terrified 
Hetty more than his look or voice or words 
had done. 

“ Eben ! Eben ! ” she cried, putting both her 
hands on his shoulders, and bringing her face 
close to his. " Don’t look like that. I tell you I 
wasn’t drowned. I am alive : feel me ! feel me ! 
I am Hetty; ” and she knelt before him, and 
laid her arms across his knees. The touch, the 
grasp, the warmth of her strong flesh, penetrated 
his inmost consciousness, and brought back the 
tottering senses. His eyes lost their terrifying 
and ghastly expression, and took on one search¬ 
ing and half-stern. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 263 


“You were not drowned!” he said. “ You have 
not been dead all these years ! You went away! 
You are not Hetty!” and he pushed her arms 
rudely from his knees. Then, in the next second, 
he had clasped her fiercely in his arms, crying 
aloud : 

“ You are Hetty ! I feel you ! I know you ! 
Oh Hetty, Hetty, wife, what does this all mean ? 
Who took you away from me ? ” And tears, 
blessed saving tears, filled Dr. Eben’s eyes. 

Now began the retribution of Hetty’s mistake. 
In this moment, with her husband’s arms around 
her, his eyes fixed on hers, the whole cloud of 
misapprehension under which she had acted was 
revealed to her as by a beam of divine light from 
heaven. Smitten to the heart by a sudden and 
overwhelming remorse, Hetty was speechless. 
She could only look pleadingly into his face, and 
murmur: 

“Oh, Eben! Eben!” 

He repeated his questions, growing calmer 
with each word, and with each moment’s increas¬ 
ing realization of Hetty’s presence. 

“ Who took you away ? ” 

“ Nobody,” answered Hetty. “ I came alone.” 

“ Did you not love me, Hetty ? ” said Dr, 
Eben in sad tones, struck by a new fear. 



264 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


This question unsealed Hetty’s lips. 

“ Love you ! ” she exclaimed in a piercing voice. 
“ Love you! oh, Eben ! ” and then she poured out, 
without reserves or disguises, the whole story of 
her convictions, her decision, and her flight. Her 
husband did not interrupt her by word or ges¬ 
ture. As she proceeded with her narrative, he 
slowly withdrew his eyes from her face, and 
fixed them on the floor. It was harder for her 
to speak when he thus looked away from her. 
Timidly she said : 

“ Do not turn your eyes away from me, Eben. 
It makes me afraid. I cannot tell you the rest, 
if you look so.” 

With an evident effort, he raised his eyes 
again, and again met her earnest gaze. But it 
was only for a few seconds. Again his eyes 
drooped, evaded hers, and rested on the floor. 
Again Hetty paused ; and said still more plead¬ 
ingly : 

“Please look at me, Eben. Indeed I can’t 
talk to you if you do not.” 

Like one stung suddenly by some insupport¬ 
able pain, he wrenched her hands from his knees, 
sprang to his feet, and walked swiftly back and 
forth. She remained kneeling by the chair, look¬ 
ing up at him with a most piteous face. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 265 


“ Hetty,” he exclaimed, “ you must be patient 
with me. Try and imagine what it is to have 
believed for ten years that you were dead ; to 
have mourned you as dead ; to have spent ten 
whole years of weary, comfortless days ; and then 
to find suddenly that you have been all this time 
living, — voluntarily hiding yourself from me; 
needlessly torturing me ! Why, Hetty ! Hetty ! 
you must have been mad. You must be mad 
now, I think, to kneel there and tell me all these 
details so calmly, and in such a matter-of-fact 
way. Do you realize what a monstrous thing 
you have been doing ? ” And Dr. Eben’s eyes 
blazed with a passionate indignation, as he 
stopped short in his excited walk and looked 
down upon Hetty. Then, in the next second, 
touched by the look on her uplifted face, so 
noble, so pure, so benevolent, he forgot all his 
resentment, all his perplexity, all his pain ; and, 
stooping over her, he lifted her from her knees, 
and, folding her close to his bosom, exclaimed : 

“ Oh, my Hetty, my own; forgive me. I am the 
one that is mad. How can I think of any thing 
except the joy of having found you again ? No 
wonder I thought at first we were both dead. 
Oh, my precious wife, is it really you ? Are you 
sure we are alive ? ” And he kissed her again 



266 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


and again, — hair, brow, eyes, lips, — with a 
solemn rapture. 

A great silence fell upon them : there seemed 
no more to say. Suddenly, Dr. Eben ex¬ 
claimed : 

“ Rachel said she did not believe you were 
dead.” 

At mention of Rachel’s name, a spasm crossed 
Hetty’s face. In the excitement of her mingled 
terror and joy, she had not yet thought of 
Rachel. 

“ Where is Rachel ? ” she gasped, her very 
heart standing still as she asked the question. 

“ At home,” answered the doctor; and his 
countenance clouded at the memory of his last 
interview with her. Hetty’s fears misinter¬ 
preted the reply and the sudden cloud on his 
face. 

“Is she — did you — where is her home?” 
she stammered. 

A great light broke in on Dr. Eben’s mind. 

“ Good God! ” he cried. “ Hetty, it is not 
possible that you thought I loved Rachel ? ” 

“ No,” said Hetty. “ I only thought you could 
love her, if it were right; and if I were dead it 
would be.” 

A look of horror deepened on the doctor’s 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 267 


face. The idea thus suggested to his mind was 
terrible. 

“And supposing I had loved her, thinking 
you were dead, what then ? Do you know what 
you would have done ? ” he said sternly. 

“ I think you would have been very happy,” 
replied Hetty, simply. “ I have always thought 
of you as being probably very happy.” 

Dr. Eben groaned aloud. 

“Oh, Hetty! Hetty! How could God have 
let you think such thoughts ? Hetty! ” he ex¬ 
claimed suddenly, with the manner of one who 
has taken a new resolve: “ Hetty, listen. We 
must not talk about this terrible past. It is 
impossible for me to be just to you. If any 
other woman had done what you have done, I 
should say she must be mad, or else wicked.” 

“ I think I was mad,” interrupted Hetty. “ It 
seems so to me now. But, indeed, Eben, oh, 
indeed, I thought at the time it was right.” 

“ I know you did, my darling,” replied the 
doctor. “ I believe it fully ; but for all that I 
cannot be just to you, when I think of it. We 
must put it away from us for ever. We are old 
now, and have perhaps only a few years to live 
together.” 

Here Hetty interrupted him with a sudden 
cry of dismay: 



268 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ Oh ! oh! I forgot every thing but you. I 
ought to have been at Dr. Macgowan’s an hour 
ago. Indeed, Eben, I must go this minute. Do 
not try to hinder me. There is a patient there 
who is so ill. I fear he will not live through 
the day. Oh, how selfish of me to have for¬ 
gotten him for a single moment! But how can 
I leave you ! How can I leave you! ” 

As she spoke, she moved hastily about the 
room, making her preparations to go. Her hus¬ 
band did not attempt to delay her. A strange 
feeling was creeping over him, that, by Hetty’s 
removal of herself from him, by her new life, 
her new name, new duties, she had really ceased 
to be his. He felt weak and helpless: the shock 
had been too great, and he was not strong. 
When Hetty was ready, he said: 

“ Shall I walk with you, Hetty ? ” 

She hesitated. She feared to be seen talking 
in an excited way with this stranger: she 
dreaded to lose her husband out of her sight. 

“ Oh, Eben ! ” she exclaimed, “ I do not know 
what to do. I cannot bear to let you go from 
me for a moment. How shall I get through 
this day! I will not go to Dr. Macgowan’s any 
more. I will get Sister Catharine from the con¬ 
vent to come and take my place at once. Yes, 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 269 


come with me. We will walk together, but we 
must not talk, Eben.” 

“ No,” said her husband. 

He understood and shared her feeling. In 
silence they took their way through the out¬ 
skirts of the town. Constantly they stole fur¬ 
tive looks at each other; Hetty noting with 
sorrow the lines which grief and ill-health had 
made in the doctor’s face ; he thinking to him¬ 
self : 

“ Surely it is a miracle that age and white 
hair should make a woman more beautiful.” 

But it was not the age, the white hair : it was 
the transfiguration of years of self-sacrifice and 
ministering to others. 

“ Hetty,” said Dr. Eben, as they drew near 
Dr. Macgowan’s gate, “what is this name by 
which the village people call you ? I heard it 
on everybody’s lips, but I could not make it 
out.” 

Hetty colored. “ It is French for Aunt 
Hibba,” she replied. “ They speak it as if it 
were one word, ‘ Tantibba.’ ” 

“ But there was more to it,” said her husband. 
" * Bo Tantibba/ they called you.” 

“ Oh, that means merely 4 Good Aunt Hibba/ ” 
she said confusedly. “ You see some of them 




2J0 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


think I have been good to them ; that’s all: but 
usually they call me only * Tantibba.’ ” 

“Why did you call yourself ‘Hibba’?” he 
said. 

“ I don’t know,” replied Hetty. “ It came into 
my head.” 

“ Don’t they know your last name ? ” asked 
her husband, earnestly. 

“Oh ! ” said Hetty, “ I changed that too.” 

Dr. Eben stopped short: his face grew stern. 

“ Hetty,” he said, “ do you mean to tell me 
that you have put my very name away from you 
all these years ? ” 

Tears came to Hetty’s eyes. 

“ Why, Eben,” she replied, “ what else could I 
do ? It would have been absurd to keep my 
name. Any day it might have been recognized. 
Don’t you see ? ” 

“Yes, I see,” answered Dr. Eben, bitterly. 
“You are no longer mine, even by name.” 

Hetty’s tears fell. She was dumb before all 
resentful words, all passionate outbreaks, from 
her husband now. All she could say was : 

“ Oh, Eben ! Eben ! ” Sometimes she added 
piteously: “ I never meant to do wrong; at 
least, no wrong to you. I thought if there were 
wrong, it would be only to myself, and on my 
own head.” 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 271 


When they parted, Dr. Eben said: 

“ At what hour are you free, Hetty ? ” 

“ At six,” she replied. “ Will you wait for me 
at the house ? Do not come here.” 

“ Very well,” he answered ; and, making a for¬ 
mal salutation as to a stranger, he turned away. 



2 J 2 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


XVI. 

W 7TTH a heavy heart, in midst of all her 
’ * joy, Hetty went about her duties : vague 
fears oppressed her. What would Eben do now ? 
What had he meant when he said: “You are 
no longer mine, even in name ” ? 

Now that Hetty perceived that she had been 
wrong in leaving him ; that, instead of provid¬ 
ing, as she had hoped she should, for his greater 
happiness, she had only plunged him into incon¬ 
solable grief, — her one desire was to atone for 
it ; to return to him ; to be to him, if possible, 
more than she had ever been. But great timid¬ 
ity and apprehension filled her breast. He 
seemed to be angry with her. Would he forgive 
her ? Would he take her home ? Had she for¬ 
feited her right to go home ? Hour after hour, 
as the weary day went on, she tortured herself 
with these thoughts. Wistfully her patients 
watched her face. It was impossible for her 
to conceal her preoccupation and anxiety. At 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 273 


last the slow sun sank behind the fir-trees, and 
brought her hour of release. Seeking Dr. Mac- 
gowan, she told him that she would send Sister 
Catharine on the next day “ to take my place 
for the present, perhaps altogether,” said Hetty. 

“ Good heavens ! Mrs. Smailli! ” exclaimed 
the doctoi “ What is the matter ? Are you ill ? 
You shall have a rest; but we can’t give you 
up.” 

“ No, I am not ill,” replied Hetty, “but circum¬ 
stances have occurred which make it impossible 
for me to say what my plans will be now.” 

“ What is it ? Bless my soul, what shall we 
do ? ” said Dr. Macgowan, looking very much 
vexed. “ Really, Mrs. Smailli, you can’t give up 
your post in this way.” 

The doctor forgot himself in his dismay. 

“ I would not leave it, if there were no one to 
fill it,” replied Hetty, gently ; “ but Sister Cath¬ 
arine is a better nurse than I am. She will 
more than fill my place.” 

“ Pshaw ! Mrs. Smailli,” ejaculated the doctor. 
“ She can’t hold a candle to you. Is it any 
thing about the salary which is taking you 
away ? I will raise it: you shall fix your own 
price.” 

Flushing red with shame, Hetty said hotly: 

18 



274 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ I have never worked for the money, Dr. 
Macgowan; only for enough for my living. 
Money has nothing to do with it. Good¬ 
morning.” 

“ That’s just what comes of depending on 
women,” growled Dr. Macgowan. “ They ’re 
all alike; no stability to ’em! What under 
heaven can it be ? She’s surely too old to have 
got any idea of marrying into her head. I ’ll go 
and see Father Antoine, and see if he can’t in¬ 
fluence her.” 

But when Dr. Macgowan, a few days later, 
reached Father Antoine’s cottage, he was met by 
news which slew on the instant all his hopes of 
ever seeing Mrs. Hibba Smailli in his House 
again as a nurse. Hetty and her husband had 
spent the previous evening with Father Antoine, 
and had laid their case fully before him. Hetty 
had given him permission to tell all the facts 
tc Dr. Macgowan, under the strictest pledges 
of secrecy. 

“ ’Pon my word ! ’pon my. word! ” said the 
doctor, “the most extraordinary thing I ever 
heard of! Who’d have thought that calm, clear¬ 
headed woman would ever have committed such 
a folly? It’s a case of monomania; a real mo¬ 
nomania, Father Antoine ; never can be sure of 




HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY 275 


such a brain’s that; may take another, any 
day; clear case of monomania; most uncomfort¬ 
able ! uncomfortable! so embarrassing! don’t 
you know ? eh ? What’s going to be done now ? 
How does the man take it ? Is he a gentleman ? 
Hang me, if I wouldn’t let a woman stay where 
she was, that had served me such a trick ! ” 

Father Antoine laughed a low pleasant laugh. 

“ And that would be by how much you had 
loved her, is it not ? ” he said. “ He is a physi¬ 
cian also, the good Aunt’s husband, and he un¬ 
derstands. He will take her with him ; and, if 
he did not, she would die ; for, now that it is plain 
to her, how grievously she hath caused him to 
sorrow, her love is like a fever till she can 
make amends for all.” 

“ Amends ! ” growled Dr. Macgowan, “ that’s 
just like a woman too. Amends ! I’d like to 
know what amends there can be for such a 
scandal, such a disgrace: ’pon my word she must 
have been mad; that’s the only way of account¬ 
ing for it.” 

“ It is not that there will be scandal,” replied 
Father Antoine* “ I am to marry them in the 
chapel, and there is no one in all the wide world, 
except to you and to me, that it will be known 
that they have been husband and wife before.” 




2;6 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ Eh ! What! Married again ! ” exclaimed 
Dr. Macgowan. “Well, that’s like a woman 
too. Why, what damned nonsense! If she was 
ever his wife, she’s his wife now, isn’t she ? 
I shouldn’t think you’d lend yourself, Father 
Antoine, to any such transaction as that.” 

“Gently, gently!” replied Father Antoine: 
“ rail not so at womankind. It is she who 
wishes to go with him at once ; and who says as 
thou, that she is still his wife : but it is he who 
will not. He says that she hath for ten years 
borne a name other than his ; that in her own 
country she hath been ten years mourned for as 
dead; that he hath by process of law, on account 
of her death, inherited and sold all the estate 
that she did own.” 

“ Rich, was she rich! ” interrupted Dr. Mac¬ 
gowan. “Well, ’pon my word, it’s the most 
extraordinary thing I ever did hear of: never 
could have happened in England, sir, never!” 

“ I know not if it were a large estate,” con¬ 
tinued Father Antoine, “ it would be no differ¬ 
ence : if it had been millions she would have left 
it and come away. She was full of renunciation. 
Ah! but she must be beloved of the Virgin.” 

“ So you are really going to marry them ovei 
again, are you ? ” broke in the impatient doctor. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 277 


“I have said that I would,” replied Father 
Antoine, “and it is great joy to me: neither 
should it seem strange to you. Your church 
doth not recognize the sacrament of baptism, 
when it has been performed by unconsecrated 
hands of dissenters : you do rebaptize all converts 
from those sects. So our church does not rec¬ 
ognize the sacrament of marriage, when per¬ 
formed by any one outside of its own priesthood. 
I shall with true gladness of heart administer the 
holy sacrament of marriage to these two so 
strangely separated, and so strangely brought 
together. They have borne ten years of penance 
for whatever of sin had gone before: the church 
will bless them now.” 

“ Hem,” said Dr. Macgowan, gruffly, unable 
to controvert the logic of Father Antoine’s 
position in regard to the sacraments ; “ that is all 
right from your point of view : but what do they 
make of it; I don’t suppose they admit that their 
first marriage was invalid, do they ? ” 

Dr. Macgowan was in the worst of humors 
He was about to lose a nurse who had been to 
him for ten years, like his right hand; and he 
was utterly discomfited and confused in all his 
confirmed impressions of her character, by these 
startling revelations of her history. He would 





278 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


not have been a Briton if these untoward com* 
binations of events had not made him surly. 

“ Nay, nay ! ” said Father Antoine, placably. 
“ Not so. It is only the husband ; and he has but 
one thing to say: that she who was his wife died 
to him, to her country, to her friends, to the 
law. There is even in her village a beautiful and 
high monument of marble which sets forth all the 
recountal of her death. She would go back to 
that country with him, and confess to every man 
the thing she had done. She prayed him that 
he would take her. But he will not. He says 
it would be shame ; and the name of his wife 
that died shall never be shamed. It is a nar¬ 
row strait for a man who loves a woman. I 
cannot say that it is clear to me what my own 
will would be in such a case. I am much moved 
by each when I hear them talk of it. Ah, but 
she has the grand honesty! Thou shouldst 
have heard her cry out when he said that to con¬ 
fess all would be a shame. 

“‘Nay, nay ! 9 cried she, ‘ to conceal is a shame/ 

“ ‘ Ay ! * replied her husband, ‘ but thou hast 
thought it no shame to conceal thyself for these 
ten years, and to lie about thy name.’ He 
speaketh with a great anger to her at times, spite 
of his love. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 279 


“ * Ah/ she answered him, in a voice which nigh 
set me to weeping: * Ah, my husband, I did 
think it shame: but I bore it, for sake of my 
love to thee ; and now that I know I was wrong, 
all the more do I long to confess all, both that 
and this, and to stand forgiven or unforgiven, as 
I may, clear in the eyes of all who ever knew me/ 

“ But he will not, and I have counselled her to 
pray him no more. For he has already endured 
heavy things at her hands ; and, if this one thing 
be to her a grievous burden, all the more doth it 
show her love, if she accept it and bear it to the 
end.” 

“ Well, well,” said Dr. Macgowan, somewhat 
wearied with Father Antoine’s sentiments and 
emotions, “ I have lost the best nurse I ever 
had, or shall have. I ’ll say that much for her ; 
but I can’t help feeling that there was some¬ 
thing wrong in her brain somewhere, which 
might have cropped out again any day. Most 
extraordinary ! most extraordinary! ” And Dr. 
Macgowan walked away with a certain lofty, 
indifferent air, which English people so well 
understand, of washing one’s hands of matters 
generally. 

There had, indeed, been a sore struggle be¬ 
tween Hetty and her husband on this matter of 



28o HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


their being remarried by Father Antoine. When 
Dr. Eben first said to her: “ And now, what are 
we to do, Hetty?” she looked at him in an 
agony of terror and gasped : 

“ Why, Eben, there is only one thing for us to 
do; don’t we belong to each other ? don’t you 
love me ? don’t you mean to take me home with 
you?” 

“ Would you go home with me, Hetty ? ” he 
asked emphatically ; “ go back to Welbury ? let 
every man, woman, and child in the county, nay, 
in the State, know that all my grief for you had 
been worse than needless, that I had been a de¬ 
serted husband for ten years, and that you had 
been living under an assumed name all that 
time ? Would you do this ? ” 

Hetty’s face paled. “What else is there to 
do ? ” she said. 

He continued : 

“ Could you bear to have your name, your 
father’s name, my name, all dragged into noto¬ 
riety, all tarnished by being linked with this 
monstrous tale of a woman who fled—for no 
reason whatever — from her home, friends, hus¬ 
band, and hid herself, and was found only by 
an accident ? ” 

“ Oh, Eben ! spare me,” moaned Hetty. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 281 


“ I can’t spare you now, Hetty,” he answered. 
“ You must look the thing in the face. I have 
been looking it in the face ever since the first 
hour in which I found you. What are we to 
do ? ” 

“ I will stay on here if you think it best,” said 
Hetty. “ If you will be happier so. Nobody 
need ever know that I am alive.” 

Doctor Eben threw his arms around hei. 
“ Leave you here ! Why, Hetty, will you never 
understand that I love you ? ” he exclaimed; 
“love you, love you, would no more leave you 
than I would kill myself ? ” 

“ But what is there, then, that we can do ? ” 
asked Hetty. 

“ Be married again here, as if we had never 
been married! You under your new name,” re¬ 
plied Doctor Eben rapidly. 

Hetty’s face expressed absolute horror. “ We 
— you and I — married again ! Why Eben, it 
would be a mockery,” she exclaimed. 

“Not so much a mockery,” her husband re¬ 
torted, “ as every thing that I have done, and 
every thing that you have done for ten whole 
years.” 

“ Oh, Eben ! I don’t think it would be right/ 
cried Hetty. “ It would be a lie.” 



282 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“ A lie ! ” ejaculated her husband, scornfully. 
Poor Hetty! The bitter harvest of her wrong 
deed was garnered for her, poured upon her 
head at every turn, by the pitilessness of events. 
Inexorable seasons, surer than any other seed¬ 
time and harvest, are those uncalendared 
seasons in which souls sow and reap with 
meek patience. 

Hetty replied: 

“ I know I have lived, acted, told a lie, Eben. 
Don’t taunt me with it. How can you, if you 
really believe all I have told you of the reasons 
which led me to it ? ” 

“ My Hetty,” said Dr. Eben, “ I don’t 
taunt you with it. I do believe all you have 
told me. I do know that you did it for love of 
me, monstrous though it sounds to say so. 
But when you refuse now to do the only thing 
which seems to me possible to be done to re¬ 
pair the mistake, and say your reason for not 
doing it is that it would be a lie, how can I 
help pointing back to the long ten years’ lie 
you have lived, acted, told ? If your love for me 
bore you up through that lie, it can bear you up 
through this.” 

“ Shall we never go home, Eben ? ” asked 
Hetty sadly. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 283 


“ To Welbury ? to New England ? never ! ” 
replied her husband with a terrible emphasis. 
“ Never will I take you there to draw down upon 
our heads all the intolerable shame, and gossiping 
talk which would follow. I tell you, Hetty, you 
are dead ! I am shielding your name, the name 
of my dead wife ! You don’t seem to compre¬ 
hend in the least that you have been dead for ten 
years. You talk as if it would be nothing more 
to explain your reappearance than if you had 
been away somewhere for a visit longer than you 
intended.” 

The longer they discussed the subject, the 
more vehement Dr. Eben grew, and the 
feebler grew Hetty’s opposition. She could 
not gainsay his arguments. She had nothing 
to oppose to them, except her wifely instinct 
that the old bond and ceremony were by impli¬ 
cation desecrated in assuming a second : “ But 
what right have I to fall back on that old bond,” 
thought poor Hetty, wringing her hands as the 
burden of her long, sad ten years’ mistake 
weighed upon her. 

Not until Hetty had yielded this point was 
there any real joy between her and her husband. 
As soon as it was yielded, his happiness began 
to grow and increase, like a plant in spring-time. 



284 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


“Now you are mine again! Now we will be 
happy! Life and the world are before us ! ” he 
exclaimed. 

“ But where shall we live, Eben ? ” asked the 
practical Hetty. 

“ Live! live ! ” he cried, like a boy; “ live any 
where, so that we live together! ” 

“ There is always plenty to do, everywhere,” 
said Hetty, reflectively: “we should not have to 
be idle.” 

Dr. Eben looked at her with mingled admiration 
and anger. 

“ Hetty ! ” he exclaimed, “ I wish you’d leave 
off ‘doing,’ for a while. All our misery came of 
that. At any rate, don’t ever try to ‘do’ any 
thing for me again as long as you live! I ’ll look 
out for my own happiness, the rest of the time, 
if you please.” 

His healing had begun when he could make 
an affectionate jest, like this ; but healing would 
come far slower to Hetty than to him. Complete 
healing could perhaps never come. Remorse 
could never wholly be banished from her heart. 

When it had once been settled that the mar¬ 
riage should take place, there seemed no reason 
for deferring it; no reason, except that Father 
Antoine’s carnations were for some cause or 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 285 


other, not yet in full bloom, and both he and 
Marie were much discontented at their tardiness. 
However, the weather grew suddenly hot, with 
sharp showers in the afternoons, and both the 
carnations and the Ayrshire roses flowered out 
by scores every morning, until even Marie was 
satisfied there would be enough. There was no 
tint of Ayrshire rose which could not be found 
in Father Antoine’s garden,— white, pink, deep 
red, purple: the bushes grew like trees, and 
made almost a thicket, along the western boundary 
of the garden. Early on the morning of Hetty’s 
wedding, Marie carried heaped basketfuls of these 
roses, into the chapel, and covered the altar with 
them. Pierre Michaud, now a fine stalwart fel¬ 
low of twenty-one, just married to that little 
sister of Jean Cochot, about whom he had once 
told so big a lie, had begged for the privilege of 
adorning the rest of the chapel. For two days, 
he and Jean, his brother-in-law, had worked in 
the forests, cutting down young trees of fir, bal¬ 
sam, and dogwood. The balsams were full of 
small cones of a brilliant purple color; and the 
dogwoods were waving with showy white flow¬ 
ers. Pierre set each tree in a box of moist 
earth, so that it looked as thriving and fresh as 
it had done in the forest; first, a fir, and then 



286 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY . 


a dogwood, all the way from the door to the 
altar, reached the gay and fragrant wall. Great 
masses of Linnea vines, in full bloom, hung on the 
walls, and big vases of Father Antoine’s carna¬ 
tions stood in the niches, with the wax saints. 
The delicate odor of the roses, the Linnea 
blossoms, and carnations, blended with the spicy 
scent of the firs, and made a fragrance as strong 
as if it had been distilled from centuries of sum¬ 
mer. The villagers had been told by Father An¬ 
toine, that this stranger who was to marry their 
good “ Tantibba,” was one who had known and 
loved her for twenty years, and who had been 
seeking her vainly all these years that she had 
lived in St. Mary’s. The tale struck a warm 
chord in the breasts of the affectionate and en¬ 
thusiastic people. The whole village was in great 
joy, both for love of “ Tantibba,” and for the love 
of romance, so natural to the French heart. Every 
one who had a flower in blossom picked it, or 
brought the plant to place in the chapel. Every 
man, woman, and child in the town, dressed as 
for a fite y was in the chapel, and praying for 
“Tantibba,” long before the hour for the cere¬ 
mony. When Eben and Hetty entered the door, 
the fragrance, the waving flowers, the murmur¬ 
ing crowd, unnerved Hetty. She had not been 
prepared for this. 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 28; 


“ Oh, Eben ! ” she whispered, and, halting for a 
moment, clung tighter to his arm. He turned a 
look of affectionate pride upon her, and, pressing 
her hand, led her on. Father Antoine’s face 
glowed with loving satisfaction as he pronounced 
the words so solemn to him, so significant to 
them. As for Marie, she could hardly keep quiet 
on her knees: her silver necklace fairly rattled 
on her shoulders with her excitement. 

“ Ah, but she looks like an angel! may the 
saints keep her,” she muttered ; “ but what will 
comfort M’sieur Antoine for the loss of her, 
when she is gone ? ” 

After the ceremony was over, all the people 
walked with the bride and bridegroom to the 
inn, where the diligence was waiting in which 
they were to begin their journey ; the same old 
vehicle in which Hetty had come ten years be¬ 
fore alone to St. Mary’s, and Doctor Eben had 
come a few weeks ago alone to St. Mary’s, “ not 
knowing the things which should befall him 
there.” 

It was an incongruous old vehicle for a wed¬ 
ding journey ; and the flowers at the ancient 
horses’ heads, and the knots of green at the 
cracked windows, would have made one laugh 
who had no interest in the meaning of the deco* 




288 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 


rations. But it was the only four-wheeled 
vehicle in St. Mary’s, and to these simple vil¬ 
lagers’ way of thinking, there was nothing un¬ 
becoming in Tantibba’s going away in it with 
her husband. 

“ Farewell to thee ! Farewell to thee ! The 
saints keep thee, Bo Tantibba and thy hus¬ 
band ! and thy husband! ” rose from scores of 
voices as the diligence moved slowly away. 

Dr. Macgowan, who had somewhat reluc¬ 
tantly persuaded himself to be present at the 
wedding, and had walked stiffly in the merry 
procession from the chapel to the inn, stood on 
the inn steps, and raised his hat in a dignified 
manner for a second. Father Antoine stood bare¬ 
headed by his side, waving a large white hand¬ 
kerchief, and trying to think only of Hetty’s 
happiness, not at all of his own and the village’s 
loss. As the shouts of the people continued to 
ring on the air, Dr. Macgowan turned slowly 
to Father Antoine. 

“ Most extraordinary scene ! ” he said, “ ’pon 
my word, most extraordinary scene ; never could 
happen in England, sir, never.” “ Which is 
perfectly true ; worse luck for England,” Father 
Antoine might have replied ; but did not. A 
few of the younger men and maidens ran for a 



HETTY’S STRANGE HISTORY. 289 


short distance by the side of the diligence, and 
threw flowers into the windows. 

“ Thou wilt return ! thou wilt return! ” they 
cried. “ Say thou wilt return ! ” 

“Yes, God willing, I will return,” answered 
Hetty, bending to the right and to the left, tak¬ 
ing loving farewell looks of them all. “ We will 
surely return.” And as the last face disappeared 
from sight, and the last merry voice died away, 
she turned to her husband, and, laying her hand 
in his, said, “ Why not, Eben ? Will not that 
be our best home, our best happiness, to come 
back and live and die among these simple 
people ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Dr. Eben, “it will. Tan- 
tibba, we will come back.” 


And now is told all that I have to tell of the 
Strange History of Eben and Hetty Williams. 
If there be any who find the history incredible, 
I have for such a few words more. 

First: I myself have seen, in the old grave¬ 
yard at Welbury, the “ beautiful and high monu¬ 
ment of marble,” of which Father Antoine spoke 
19 




290 HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY . 


to Dr. Macgowan. It bears the following in¬ 
scription : 

“ Sacred to the Memory 
of 

HENRIETTA GUNN, 

Beloved Wife of Dr. Ebenezer Williams, 
Who was drowned in Welbury Lake.” 

The dates, which I have my own reasons for 
not giving, come below ; and also a verse of 
the Bible, which I will not quote. 

Second: I myself was in Welbury when 
there was brought to the town by some traveller 
a copy of a Canadian newspaper, in which, 
among the marriages, appeared this one : 

“ In the parish of St. Mary’s, Canada, W., by Rev. 
Antoine Ladeau, Mrs. Hibba Smailli to Dr. Ebenezer 
Williams.” 

The condition of Welbury, when this piece of 
news was fairly in circulation in the town, could 
be compared to nothing but the buzz of a bee 
hive at swarming time. A letter which was 
received by the Littles, a few days later, from 
Dr. Williams himself, did not at first allay the 
buzzing. He wrote, simply : “You will be much 
surprised at the slip which I enclose” (it was 



HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 291 


the newspaper announcement of his marriage). 
“You can hardly be more surprised than I am 
myself; but the lady is one whom I knew and 
loved a great many years ago. We are going 
abroad, and shall probably remain there for some 
years. When I shall see Welbury again is very 
uncertain.” 

Thirdly: Since neither of these facts proves 
my “ Strange History ” true, I add one more. 

I know Hetty Williams. 




















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A New Enlarged Edition. Square 1 8mo. Uniform with 
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the English language, except Mrs. Browning alone. ‘ H. H.’ has not yet proved 
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Symmetry altogether her superior.” — T. W. H. in The Index. 


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A POSTHUMOUS STORY. 

By HELEN JACKSON (H. H.). 

One volume. i6mo. Cloth. Price, $1.25. 


The story is complete in spite of the fact that a few chapters remained still 
to be written when the writer succumbed to disease. Begun and mainly com¬ 
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never returned; the disease steadily deepened its hold, and a few days before her 
death, foreseeing that the end was near, Mrs. Jackson sent the manuscript to 
her publisher, with a brief note, enclosing a short outline of the chapters which 
remained unwritten. . . . The real lesson of the book lies in Zeph’s unconquer¬ 
able affection for his worthless wife, and in the beautiful illustration of the divine 
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from this and all kindred labors. — New York Christian Union. 

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MERCY PHILBRICK’S CHOICE. 


By HELEN JACKSON (H. H.) 

Author of “ Ramona,” “ Bits of Talk,” “ Hetty’s Strange History.” 

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of a novel — events, situations, surprises— are cheap, and easy to come by. It 
is the higher art which discards these, and trusts for effect to truth and subtlety 
of character drawing. — Boston Transcript. 

A novel wholly out of the common course, both in plot and style. . . . The 
moral of the book is wholesome, —that no good can come from deceit, and that 
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quality of her intellect impresses itself upon the story from first to last.— New 
York Tribune. 

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It is a striking and touching story — this new one — and will be greatly read 
and admired, as it deserves to be. There is even genius in some of its touches, 
which remind one of a feminine counterpart to Hawthorne. — Springfield. 
Republican. 

The volume is interspersed with some of the sweetest poems to which these 
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as of fascinating fiction. — Hartford Post. 

It is a story of the simplest motives, but as lovely and heart-holding as a sweet 
folk-song. Every page is endearingly true to the innermost part of humanity, and 
the author transcribes the workings of hearts and minds with no less faithfulness 
than she (we insist that it is a “ she”) gives exquisite pictures of nature and the 
handiwork which “ fashions in silence.” The story is from the pen of a poet, 
and the inter-current verses are each and all gems of “ ray serene,” not too flash¬ 
ing, but very, very appreciable to eyes which have learned how to weep. — Boston 
Traveller. 

Read the book, which is fascinating. The author is certainly a woman. And 
she is a poet, too, of no mean powers, as is proved by the half dozen short poems 
in the book. The sonnet engraved on Mercy’s tombstone is not surpassed by 
any of Wordsworth. — Troy Whig. 

This book is a novel only in the sense that George Eliot’s books are novels. 
The story is subordinated to showing the inevitable working out of opposing 
moral forces. The characters, well drawn as some of them are, are hardly more 
than dial-pointers on the clock of fate. Of dramatic motive there is more than 
enough.— The Unitarian Review. 

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